


"The Ancients' Mirror"

by DPPatricks



Category: Stargate SG-1, Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen, Gen Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:34:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the year 2000 and the Stargate Project has hired Starsky & Hutchinson to solve its many and varied security problems.</p>
<p>If you were not a fan of first season ‘Stargate SG-1,’ this story will probably be meaningless. I thoroughly enjoyed the show for the first seven seasons or so, then not quite as much after Richard Dean Anderson left. </p>
<p>When I got the idea for this story, I wanted to make it a mix of fantasy (a lot of fantasy) and ‘reality.’ I had fun writing it and hope you enjoy reading it. Many thanks to Laura Y for her beta contributions and encouragement. Any mistakes that remain are mine alone.</p>
<p>Edited and re-posted, 9/11/17</p>
            </blockquote>





	"The Ancients' Mirror"

PART ONE

“Here we are again, Starsk.” Ken Hutchinson spoke to the empty passenger seat of his car when he exited the Long Beach Freeway. “Third time this month, and two days in a row. Haven’t done that before.” 

The familiar large, white landmark lay ahead as he maneuvered through the heavy traffic. Two blocks from the public parking area, Hutch left the bumper-to-bumper stream and drove to the employee entrance. “Wish I knew why the project fascinates me so,” he mused. “It’s as if something keeps drawing me back. I’m sure Cal’s beginning to think I’m obsessed…. Maybe he’s right.”

Hutch stopped at the imposing gate and handed his identification to the guard there, A. STURGIS, according to his name tag. The credentials were checked carefully as Hutch waited patiently. Tight security was an S&H, Inc. trademark. Even though he was the President and CEO, he made it clear to all his employees that he expected to be treated the same as anyone else. 

“Good to see you back again, sir.” Sturgis handed him his I.D. “I’m a little surprised though. Randy said you were here last night for the premier.” 

“Sure was, Al.” Hutch slipped the card into the pocket of his suit jacket; he’d need it again in a few minutes. “It’s why I’m back today. Dr. Jackson asked for a meeting.”

“Thought you’d beat the crowd this morning, did you?” Al asked with a smile, pressing the button to open the heavy gate.

“From the traffic out there,” Hutch laughed, “I didn’t get here early enough.” 

“No such thing these days, sir.” Al chuckled.

“Knock off the ‘sir,’ Al.” Hutch cocked an eyebrow. “Or I’ll transfer you to the public entrance.”

“Aw, geez, Hutch,” Al gulped, “don’t even joke about a thing like that. You know I’d never last a day out front.”

“I do know,” Hutch responded, with a glint in his voice, putting the car in gear. “So keep doing your usual great job back here and knock off the ‘sir,’ okay?”

“Yes, sir!” Al grinned happily and waved.

Shaking his head in amusement, Hutch parked in the C.O.S. reserved space, climbed out of his car, locked it, and walked toward the doors. “Have you noticed, Starsk, that I talk to you more when we’re here, than any other time? I wonder if it’s because you seem closer here, than anywhere else. Interesting,” he continued, quietly. “I’ll have to think about that.”

Sliding his identification card through the reader and punching a six digit code into the keypad, he attached the card to the outside of his jacket pocket. When the electronic lock clicked, he pulled the heavy door open and stepped inside, making sure the entrance locked behind him.

“Remember how easy it was getting into this place the first time, partner? When we came for the initial interview? Better now, don’t you think?”

Hutch wandered the complex, as he had done so often recently, admittedly captivated by his firm’s newest client. The I.D. he wore granted him access to all areas. Therefore, he wasn’t accosted, except to be greeted by smiles and variations on “Hello, Mr. Hutchinson.” He always smiled back and could call many by name. 

His company had gotten the contract months before, and Hutch had been here often. However, after an encounter with the archivist, Dr. Daniel Jackson, the previous evening, he had decided to spend the entire day learning as much more about The Stargate, and the people involved, as possible. His meeting wasn’t until the afternoon and he was looking forward to the hours he and his partner would have to themselves.

“I still wish you could see this place, Starsk.” Even though no one was close enough to hear him, he automatically kept his voice down. “I know I’ve told you all this before, and I hate to repeat myself, but…” He shrugged, self-consciously and kept walking. “It’s part ‘Star Wars,’ part ‘Star Trek,’ part… hell, you’d know better than I would.” 

He continued walking, making sure he wasn’t being overheard; couldn’t have people see their new Chief of Security talking to himself. “It’s almost beyond imagination, buddy, but they say they really can travel to other planets. From everything I’ve read and seen so far I believe them. Haven’t been off-world yet, but I’m workin’ on it.”

The garden had been expanded since the last time he’d walked through it. “I swear, Starsky, there are plants here even I can’t identify.”

When initially approached about making a proposal for new security programs, protocols and training of personnel, Hutch had been academically interested. He had looked forward to a prospective new client, and a distraction from his burned out feelings about life in general. The ennui he had felt since the death of his partner hadn’t ameliorated in the nearly three years since it had happened. In fact, the more time that passed, the more he missed the volatile, funny, cheerful, moody, aggravating, buoyant, stimulating, irritating, enthusiastic, infuriating, lovable David Starsky.

Absently, he wondered why he’d worn this particular suit, his favorite dark charcoal with a fine pinstripe, and his favorite sky blue shirt and slightly darker blue tie. Yes, they made his eyes appear even bluer then usual but who was he trying to impress? He already had the contract. Did he think Dr. Jackson was going to introduce him to someone more important than the people who ran the Stargate? He had no idea, but he knew he wanted to look his best for some reason, and had chosen his wardrobe with care. Huggy would have approved, he thought, with a flash of sadness. 

He must have achieved his goal because, as a young woman in a lab coat approached him, she brazenly looked him up and down and then gave him a dazzling smile. “Lookin’ _good_ , Mr. H.” 

“Thank you, Amy. You’re looking rather svelte yourself today.” 

She beamed and twirled on her way past him, her white coat billowing out around her. “Down another five pounds! Only ten to go!” Waving as she turned the corner, her happy laughter drifted back to him. 

“Your fiancé’s a lucky man, Amy,” Hutch called after her. Then he lowered his voice. “You remember Amy, don’t you, Starsk? We met her last month. She and her fiancé write the programs for all the special effects in the exhibits.”

He rounded a corner, checking for potential eavesdroppers. “The Nox Homeworld Hall is going to blow people away! How she and Jeff came up with the huge dragonfly that appears and disappears is something I can’t wrap my head around. She tried explaining it to me, but you know me and programming.”

He continued toward the History Hall, his spirits raised by the exchange with Amy, and his partner.

*******

Studying each exhibit, Hutch thought back again to all the news coverage he’d seen, and read, when the Stargate had been outed. Senator Kinsey, a self-important first-term Congressman, had blown the lid off the military’s super secret operation, hoping that an enraged public would demand its immediate cancellation. The Stargate had, according to Kinsey, brought humans into contact with a violent and very advanced alien species, one that had wanted to destroy Earth! They had come in their spaceships with just that objective in mind. 

That was the real explanation for all the ‘fireworks’ in the skies one night a few years previously; ‘fireworks’ the Air Force had tried to pass off as a meteor storm. But the Senator had told the public, in detail, what had almost happened. With poorly disguised glee, he had tried to make everyone believe that if the Stargate hadn’t brought us to the attention of the Goa’uld, Earth’s people would never have been in jeopardy. Such a project couldn’t be allowed to continue, Kinsey had argued, it was far too dangerous and should be terminated! Of course, the Senator had completely ignored the fact that the Goa’uld had been here millennia earlier and knew all about Earth. 

“You’d just _love_ Kinsey, Starsk,” Hutch said quietly. “He’d live down to all your expectations about politicians. And, I have to admit, he makes me think ‘politics’ has become a four letter world.”

The Senator, in his diatribe, had never mentioned anything, of course, about the fact that it was due solely to the ingenuity, dedication and courage of Colonel Jack O’Neill’s team, and the Air Force as a whole, that tragedy had been averted and the Goa’uld defeated. Such information had no place in Kinsey’s condemnation. 

To the Senator’s utter amazement, disgust and humiliation though, the public had demanded that the Stargate not only _not_ be shut down, but that it be made available to them! 

The Air Force had been completely unprepared for such a possibility, they didn’t have the facilities, funds or personnel. The Sony Corporation had come to the rescue and made the government an offer: ten billion dollars for a Stargate, and the rights to its use. The offer had been accepted. The Antarctica gate had been crated up and shipped to Long Beach where it was installed in the huge white dome that had formerly been the home of Howard Hughs’ Spruce Goose. Sony had gotten the property at a reasonable price and, over the next six months, had spent millions preparing the exhibits and attractions for ‘Sony Presents The Stargate.’ 

The day it opened, there were more people in line then had been waiting for the opening of Disney World. And, in the months since, the lines were not only undiminished, they had grown. People were fascinated by the gate, and where it had taken Colonel O’Neill and his team. 

“You should have seen the media frenzy, Starsk,” Hutch mused. “It was before we had the contract, of course, but I watched some of it on CNN. In fact, you couldn’t turn on the TV or pick up a paper without seeing or reading something about the venerable old Dome’s new tenant.” He smiled, imaging how much his partner would have enjoyed the spectacle. He would probably have been one of the first to stand, patiently, in the long lines.

Sony had underestimated the public’s fascination, however. People weren’t satisfied with just looking, some demanded to be allowed to go _through_ the contraption. The cost didn’t seem to matter either, they wanted to go off-world! 

Therefore, a seven-story building had had to be constructed next to the Dome, for administrative offices, conference rooms, floors of exhibit halls, a café and separate upscale restaurant and a well-stocked Gift Shoppe. The tower also housed the operational gate itself, deep in the sub-basement. 

Hutch had learned, since being awarded the security contract, that all the real equipment, computers and support technology had had to be installed in a secure facility in the lowest level of the new building, where it could be activated safely. The schedule of off-world tours had to be precise, of course, because Long Beach could not go online if the gate at Cheyenne Mountain was in use. Missions always took precedence over tours. But that was only a tiny obstacle; tight scheduling and then keeping to that schedule, was all that was necessary. Except when Cheyenne Mountain had an emergency but, thankfully, that hadn’t happened yet.

A replica of the gate had had to be made for the Dome. There the ‘cheap tickets’ holders could watch a close approximation of the portal’s function and see actors go through the motions of gate travel. 

For their ‘$20 per person, per day’ ticket price, they could watch as many ‘operations’ as they wanted. For an additional fee, they could even take the role of Controller, calling out the chevron numbers as the ring rotated. 

Visitors could tour all the floors of exhibition halls, and sit in the 300-seat theater to watch dramatizations of some of the early missions. 

The Long Beach newspaper printed a schedule of these screenings and it quickly became apparent that certain ‘episodes’ were sell-outs every time. One of those was ‘The Torment of Tantalus,’ where Dr. Ernest Littlefield became the first person, in modern times, to gate to another world. 

Turning a corner, Hutch found himself outside the theater where a placard identified that evening’s screening as Dr. Littlefield’s story again. He stopped, vividly remembering his first viewing, two months earlier, shortly after signing the contract. 

Hutch had been invited down for the premier, not expecting much, but had been deeply affected. Something about Dr. Littlefield having had the courage to attempt the 1945 mission in the first place, then being marooned for fifty years, alone, spoke strongly to Hutch’s psyche. Ernest had been rescued, after those fifty years, and brought back to Earth. He had married Dr. Katherine Langford, the love of his life and, together, they were running The Stargate Project. 

At the reception following the screening, Ernest, Katherine and Hutch, had discovered they liked each other a lot. Conversation had been about varied topics, sprinkled with laughter, until Katherine had spoken quietly into a momentary lull. “You recently lost your partner, didn’t you, Ken?”

“It’s been almost three years, Katherine,” Hutch had responded, somewhat uncomfortably. “Can that be considered ‘recent’?”

“When you’ve lost someone for fifty…” She had looked lovingly at her husband, before returning her gaze to Hutch. “I’d think three would seem like nothing.”

“I guess that’s true.” Saying the words, Hutch had realized it was.

“Don’t give up hope, son.” Ernest had taken a half step forward, glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening. “You never know what could happen.”

“I don’t understand.” Hutch had been genuinely startled.

“Never mind.” Ernest had waved a hand, enigmatically. “You will, eventually. Just remember that love really can overcome all obstacles.” He had looked tenderly at his wife and taken her hand. “We should know.”

Suddenly, Hutch had discovered that he was truly happy for these two people. Their faith in, and love for each other, had weathered all that time being separated. Losing someone close to your heart didn’t have to destroy you, he had thought. As difficult as it was at times, life could go on. 

*******

Looking more closely at the printed schedule of screenings on the theater doors, Hutch noticed that the next presentation, after ‘Torment,’ would be ‘Solitudes,’ one of his favorites. O’Neill’s remarks in the media, after its premier, had been scathing. Captain Samantha Carter had been much more complimentary about the accuracy of the depiction, and the actors chosen to portray herself, Colonel O’Neill, General Hammond, and the other team members. 

“I haven’t had a chance to get to know Colonel O’Neill yet, Starsk,” Hutch told his companion, “he’s usually at the Mountain. I’ve met Captain Carter though. You’d like her.” He smiled to himself. “Of course, she’d insist we call her Sam.”

Still smiling, he remembered every word of his conversation with Sam at the reception following the initial screening of ‘Solitudes,’ the previous month.   
They had introduced themselves, insisting on first names. She had talked about the thrill of exploring new worlds, meeting new peoples, living through dangerous situations, all the usual things that she had probably been asked about at similar events ever since the gate had gone public. 

Her words had been enthusiastic, but Hutch had had the impression that it had all become rote. Therefore, having thought of something during the screening that he hadn’t heard her mention yet, he had said, “May I ask a question?”

Sam had been glancing around the room during their conversation, her attention going back repeatedly to the group that included Colonel O’Neill and several journalists. Irritation had been visible on the Colonel’s face as the newsies pressed him with questions, and Sam had appeared worried. 

“Of course,” she had said, looking back at Hutch.

“When you dial home from off-world,” he had asked, “what keeps both gates from being activated?”

Sam’s eyes had widened and her smile had turned incandescent. “Oh, gee, I feel like lights should be flashing, bells should be clanging, and balloons should be floating down from the ceiling.” She flushed, realizing that Hutch wasn’t sure what she meant. “Like on a quiz show, when someone says the magic word.” 

Hutch had smiled at the explanation and nodded.

“I don’t think anyone has ever asked that question, Ken,” she explained. “To me, it’s one of the most important.” She had appraised him more closely. “You must have a very logical and detailed mind. Not to mention an active imagination.”

“My partner used to say I think too much.” Hutch had shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed. 

“To which you probably said,” her smile deepening with visible kindness, “‘Better than not thinking at all, Starsk’.” 

Hutch had been stunned. Sam’s eyes had flown wide as if realizing she’d said something she shouldn’t have. “And I talk too much!” Before Hutch could think of how to respond, she had continued brightly. “You thought of the question, Ken, so I’ll bet you’ve thought of the answer.”

“Well, I’ve thought of a possible answer,” he had managed to say, putting aside his discomfort.

“Which is?”

“An eighth chevron.”

“Exactly!” Sam had exclaimed. “When we realized both gates were going to be accessed from off-world, we knew we’d have to differentiate between them. Couldn’t have a mission ending up in Long Beach, or a tour coming back to the Mountain. So I wrote a program for the off-world activation recognition software, here and at the other facility,” she said, as if such a thing was no trouble at all. “It requires one additional symbol at the end of earth’s normal series, that’s different for the two destinations.”

“Sounds easy, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.” Hutch had smiled, wryly. 

She had returned his smile, almost bashfully. 

“I’m going to sound really stupid now,” he had continued, “questioning my own answer, but I thought addresses had only seven symbols.”

“That’s true for the ones we know of. Why couldn’t there be eight, nine, or even more, though?” Sam had asked, excitedly. “The possible combinations on the Dial Home Device are almost infinite. There’s no reason we can think of why every single symbol on the DHD couldn’t be required for a planet… somewhere.” 

“What’s beyond ‘infinite,’ Sam?” Hutch had asked, having difficulty with that concept.

“Beyond infinity? Who knows?” She had grinned briefly. “Are we beginning to sound like ‘Toy Story’ here?” 

“Don’t know, Sam,” Hutch had replied, somewhat ashamed. “I didn’t see it. My partner tried to get me to go, but there never seemed to be time.”

“That’s what video tapes are for, Ken,” she had said, kindly. “And second-run theaters.”

Appreciating her quiet understanding, he had smiled. 

“Anyway,” she had continued, brightening again. “I have a fantasy that every time someone dials either one of the eight sets of chevrons for Earth, somewhere on a planet, orbiting a star, in a system on the edge of a galaxy in… oh, I don’t know… say, a galaxy in the Virgo cluster, a gate is activated.” She had laughed lightly. “I’ll bet it would drive them crazy!”

“If you think it’s even conceivable that destinations could have eight symbols, aren’t you concerned that you might end up there? Instead of here?” 

“I guess, when I was fantasizing,” she had replied, after a few moments, “I wasn’t really thinking about such an address actually existing. Every one we know about is for a gate somewhere in our galaxy. And consists of seven symbols.” 

She had paused and Hutch had waited patiently. 

“Now, if eight-symbol destinations do exist,” she had finally continued, “logic tells me they’re in another galaxy. And I would hope, in that case, that proximity might be a factor, and the system wouldn’t send travelers half way across the universe, when a gate with the same address was within easy reach.” She had looked at him as if she really wanted his opinion. “Sound reasonable?”

“None of this sounds ‘reasonable’ to me, Sam,” Hutch had laughed.

“I know what you mean.” She had chuckled along with him. “I’ve been with the Stargate program for years and I still find it unbelievable at times.”

“On early missions,” Hutch had then asked, “when your team dialed home, do you know if the gate in Antarctica was activated?”

“We believe it was,” she had answered, thoughtfully. “That’s probably why there was a cavern, and a melted chimney up to the surface.”

“How come none of you ever ended up there before?”

“I’ll have to speculate a bit here.” She had cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, and he had nodded encouragingly. “In theory, that gate was the first one on Earth, but something happened and the Ancients lost the use of it. Either they hadn’t been here recently enough to notice the impending glaciation, or a polar reversal sped up the process, or any number of other things could have happened.”

She had paused and they had both snagged flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. After taking a sip, Sam had continued, “When they came back and found it impacted, they must have thought it was easier to install a new gate. In an area where ice wouldn’t be a problem for eons.” 

Ice in Egypt, Hutch had thought. Yep, that’d probably take eons.

“When the Goa’uld appropriated the gate system,” Sam had continued, after a swallow of the excellent bubbly, “they must have discovered a way to use both. Colonel O’Neill and I found a serpent guard frozen in the ice near the DHD. We’ve never figured out how or why he was there.

“Oh, and by the way?” Sam had added, while Hutch had waited with continued patience and avid interest. “Earth is the only planet we’ve found, so far, to have two gates. Don’t have any idea what that means, but I find it interesting.”

“Why did we only know about the one in Egypt?” Hutch had asked. “What made all the travel go through there, if, as you suspect, the one in Antarctica was being activated each time, and it was the original?”

“No idea,” Sam had responded immediately. “Again, theorizing, the gate in Egypt, which is now at Cheyenne Mountain, was probably newer technology and therefore the dominant one. We simply don’t know, and probably never will.” Her voice had softened then. “We had no reason to suspect the one in Antarctica was even there until a staff-weapon-caused power surge diverted the matter stream and Colonel O’Neill and I ended up entombed in ice.” 

She had put her empty flute on the tray of another waiter and gone quiet for a few moments. “As you saw tonight,” she had continued, subdued, “if Daniel hadn’t realized the significance of the vibration caused at the Mountain when I attempted to dial home, we might never have been found.”

“But, as we all know,” Hutch had said, quickly, attempting to lighten her sudden somber mood, “Dr. Jackson’s brilliant, and you were found. So now Sony can send people off-world and they can experience a little of what you and the others have discovered.” 

He had looked around at the gathered celebrities, dignitaries and everyday people involved in the historic project that was the Stargate. 

“I wish my partner could have been here,” he had said, wistfully. “He had such a child-like love of anything new and different. He would have been one of the first to sign up for a tour. Any tour.” 

Suddenly, unable to hide the emotions that crowded in, he had swallowed hard and half turned away. “I miss him so much.”

“Don’t give up hope, Ken,” Sam had advised, earnestly. “You never know. As we talked about a few minutes ago, possibilities are infinite.”

“Dr. Little…” Hutch had had to stop and try again. “Dr. Littlefield said almost the same thing to me last month,” he had finally managed, forcing the words past the constriction in his throat. “I don’t understand, Sam. What did he mean? What do _you_ mean?”

“Nothing,” she had responded, quickly. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. Don’t tell Daniel, okay? But don’t give up.” She had looked around then, an artificially cheerful expression on her face. “And now I really need to go and forestall an impending incident. Colonel O’Neill is about to have a few journalists for dessert.”

She had almost sprinted across the room, a hearty, “Infinity, and beyond,” floating over her shoulder. 

Hutch had been left puzzled and confused, but feeling, somehow, as if a tiny bit of the weight he’d been carrying had been lifted.

*******

Those weeks-ago conversations with Ernest and Katherine, then Sam, had been on his mind a great deal lately, Hutch realized. The encounter the previous evening with Daniel Jackson, however, had been the most perplexing. It was the reason why he was here today, to meet with the archivist, in response to a mysterious invitation. 

He had attended the initial screening of ‘Fire and Water.’ Afterward, at the reception, Dr. Jackson had sought him out. 

‘Are we getting to be a fixture at these things, Starsk?’ Hutch had asked his partner silently, as Jackson had maneuvered him to a quiet corner of the room. ‘And, if so, do we really want to be? You probably would, you’d love all this. I think somebody said Lucas and Spielberg are here tonight.’

Elsewhere in the crowd, he had felt Ernest and Katherine’s attention, as well as Sam’s. They had made no move to join the conversation however. 

The archivist had seemed intense and completely disinterested in talking about the film they had seen, and his own spectacular role in that mission. He had wanted to talk only about Hutch’s company, his relationship with his dead partner, why he’d kept the name, ‘Starsky & Hutchinson,’ even though his partner had been gone for three years. Jackson had also inquired about how Hutch had managed to continue the business, and his life, without his best friend. 

They were all subjects Hutch had thought a tad too personal, and not in the purview of an archivist. Between obtaining refills of their drinks and greeting other attendees who had intruded into their exclusive corner, Hutch had studied Jackson more closely. He had ultimately found the off-world traveler’s personality so open, and non-threatening, he had answered the questions as truthfully as possible, and without rancor. 

Seeming to have run out of queries at last, Jackson had asked Hutch to come back and see him the following day, explaining where to find his office. He wouldn’t say anything about why he wanted to talk with him, only that he expected Hutch would be interested in something he had to show him. Somewhat reluctantly, Hutch had agreed to the meeting. Soon after, Jackson had left the reception. 

Looking around, Hutch had realized that Katherine, Ernest and Sam were gone, too. He couldn’t even question them about what Jackson had in mind. 

*******

For the second time that day, Hutch spoke softly to his missing partner. “So, here we are again, Starsk.” He had walked through most of the facility and was now on his way to meet Dr. Jackson in his office on the first basement level of the tower building. 

Turning the corner into the correct hallway, alarms sounded and red lights, recessed in alcoves near the ceiling, began to revolve rapidly. Hutch quickly drew his weapon while a voice on the P.A. system blared. 

“All security personnel and guides assemble in the Gate Room immediately. Volunteers are needed for an emergency mission to Chulak. Repeat, all security personnel and guides assemble…”

Hutch didn’t wait to hear it again. He headed for the stairwell and hurried down to the lowest level. When he opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, he was confronted by two heavily armed civilians, dressed in desert tan uniforms with SH patches on their shoulders. As soon as they recognized Hutch, they relaxed their aggressive postures. 

“With me Carl, Ed.” Hutch moved past, beckoning them to follow.

Teal’c, the huge Jaffa member of SG-1, was striding back and forth in front of the ramp. “They have taken Rya’c! Who will go with me?” 

Hutch, holstering his weapon, moved through the arriving members of his security force and the project’s guides. He put his hand on Teal’c’s arm. 

The Jaffa spun around, a glare on his face that would have made lesser men cower. 

Hutch stood his ground and held out his hand. “I’m Kenneth Hutchinson, Teal’c. We haven’t been introduced, but I’m --”

Behind Hutch, Dr. Jackson burst through the stairway door. Hutch turned quickly, reaching under his jacket again, before he recognized the late arrival. He straightened up.

The Jaffa stepped toward the archivist and put his huge hands on Jackson’s shoulders. “You will accompany me, will you not, Daniel Jackson?”

Hutch knew these two had been members of SG-1 since its inception. Having read their mission reports, he had the feeling that theirs was nearly as tight a team as his and Starsky’s had been; if one needed help, the others were always ready to do whatever was required. He was therefore shocked when Jackson stepped back and shook his head. 

“I can’t, Teal’c, you know I…” Jackson glanced at Hutch, making Hutch wonder why in the world the archivist would be looking at him.

Jackson turned back to Teal’c. “I can’t,” he repeated.

Hutch had no idea what was going on; he was definitely missing something here. 

For a moment, Teal’c stared at Hutch too, before looking back at Jackson, clearly resigned. “I remember now, Daniel Jackson.” 

Jackson took Teal’c’s arm and stepped toward Hutch. “But I know you can trust Hutchinson, Teal’c.”

That surprised the hell out of Hutch, too. _How_ did Jackson know Teal’c could trust him? From their single conversation the night before, Jackson shouldn’t have been able to make such a sweeping statement. There was definitely something going on that he didn’t yet understand. 

Hutch felt Teal’c’s appraising look when the Jaffa studied him again. 

“You know Jack and Sam are still on Four-Two-Four,” the archivist reminded Teal’c. “They couldn’t get here in time.” 

Hutch held Teal’c’s intense gaze.

“Believe me, Teal’c,” Jackson went on, “I know what I’m talking about. He’s the person you need.”

Watching the Jaffa try to come to a decision, Hutch felt as if he was being judged and was suddenly afraid he might not measure up.

“I trust Daniel Jackson with my live,” Teal’c said at last, extending his hand.   
“Therefore, I will trust you, Kenneth Hutchinson.”

Hutch took the extended hand, relieved to have passed a test he hadn’t even known he’d be taking. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jackson melt through the crowd toward the back of the room, and he promised himself he’d get some answers when he got back. Then he returned his attention to the Jaffa.

“My son has been taken hostage,” Teal’c explained, his voice controlled. 

“Tell me what you know,” Hutch said, in his most calming, soothing tone. “My partner and I had experience with hostage situations. The more you can tell me, the better I’ll be able to help.”

Some of the tension visibly drained from Teal’c’s expressive face. He swept his hands over his bald head. “I was late getting here, or I would have gone with the tour this morning and then this would not have happened.” He shook his head and after a moment continued. “A few minutes ago, the gate was activated from Chulak. Bra’tac told us that a group of malcontents was making demands about the Stargate and had taken hostages. Including the tour from today, and my son.”

“Bra’tac didn’t come through himself?” Hutch asked, surprised.

“He does not travel much any more, he says he is getting too old.” Teal’c actually smiled a little. “He will never be too old but he does not enjoy the experience as much as he used to. However, if the wormhole is established, you can stand on either side and be heard perfectly on the other.”

“Why didn’t he contact Cheyenne Mountain?” Hutch asked. “They’re the military branch of the project. Wouldn’t they be prepared to handle this operation better than the civilians here?”

“Their gate was in use,” Teal’c explained, “and had been since just after the tour left here. It is one of the reasons I was late. I had to fly down instead of coming through the gate. They were transporting relief supplies to P3X-424, and bringing injured to Earth,” Teal’c continued. “There is a war going on and we had not been able to contact them for weeks.”

He took a breath. “Last night a truce was called, so that wounded on both sides could be evacuated. Supplies were gathered all night and Doctor Fraiser set up a triage center. As soon as all was ready, they let the Control Room here know that they must not operate for at least three hours. Bra’tac could not get through to either facility and he was not happy. He knew I was here, since I was to have accompanied today’s tour. He kept dialing continuously until he managed to reach us.”

Hutch digested all this and realized the civilians here would be on their own. “What demands did the insurgents make?”

“Bra’tac said they want all humans off Chulak, forever, and they want the Stargate buried. They do not like the idea that their homeworld is finally free of the Goa’uld, but has now been invaded by rich Tyree who only come to gawk at them and take souvenirs home.” 

Teal’c began to stride around, agitation obvious, as he went on heatedly. “They say it is humiliating and almost worse than the Goa’uld. At least, with them, they knew what to expect. With humans, it is always something new. They point their cameras at everyone and everything. They will not be told they can not take pictures of something, or go wherever they want. They act as if they own our world and everyone on Chulak is there to serve them.”

That sounds exactly like humans to me, Hutch thought. He looked around at the assembled team members and armed civilians, all clearly ready. He turned back to Teal’c, who had come to a stop again, in front of him. “How many of these people have been to Chulak?” he asked the Jaffa.

Teal’c glanced around. “All of them.”

“Good.” Hutch turned and addressed everyone in the room. “For those of you who don’t know me yet, my name is Hutchinson. I’m the new Chief of Security. If you’re prepared to go with Teal’c and myself, please step forward.” Everyone in the room did, and Hutch smiled. “Thank you.” 

“Carl,” he said, addressing one of the SH men from the stairway. The former marine snapped to attention and Hutch hoped he wouldn’t salute. “I need you to stay here.” Carl’s shoulders slumped. Hutch felt bad but he had no choice. “Choose a skeleton crew and keep the facility and everyone safe until we get back.” Carl straightened again, and Hutch knew he’d chosen well. “I don’t see a reason to shut down, this is probably a situation on Chulak only. Keep your eyes open though.”

“I will, Mr. Hutchinson,” Carl responded, firmly. He turned away and began selecting those who would remain behind. 

Hutch turned back to Teal’c. “Since you spoke with Bra’tac, I assume the gate there is in friendly hands?”

“Yes. The rebels have taken the hostages into the hills behind the town.”

“Okay.” Hutch looked up to the Control Room. “Dial the gate, please.”

“Activating Dialing Sequence,” was heard through the speakers. Behind them, a sigil lit up and the inner ring began to rotate. “Chevron one, encoded.” The first symbol was seated. 

“I’m not fully versed in operations yet, Teal’c.” As Hutch addressed the Jaffa, the dialing sequence continued behind them. “How many of us can go through at one time?”

“Everyone. There is a thirty minute window,” Teal’c assured him.

“Good.” Hutch liked the sound of that, their backup could transport with him and Teal’c. “You and I will go first. As soon as we get there, Bra’tac can bring us up to date and we’ll make our plans.”

Teal’c clasped his staff weapon firmly, a look of such determination on his face, Hutch had no concern for the success of the mission. He drew and checked his weapon, knowing it was ready, but needing to fill the time until the final symbol had been lighted. 

“Chevron seven, locked!” 

Teal’c had moved back a pace but, as those words reverberated, he leaned forward and grabbed Hutch’s arm. Hutch stumbled a little as Teal’c pulled him out of potential danger when the portal opened. It was the first time Hutch had experienced the effect in person and it startled, as well as greatly impressed him. 

Teal’c led the way determinedly up the ramp and Hutch was right beside him. The Jaffa didn’t attempt to hide his gentle air of superiority when he confided, “It is a little unsettling the first time, but you will survive.” 

Hutch could only have faith in his new friend. He took a breath and followed him into the rippling vertical pool.

Gate travel was unlike anything Hutch had ever imagined; it combined sensations of falling, tumbling, rising, swirling, speeding, being what felt like de-molecularized and then re-assembled. Dr. McCoy was right, he thought, I’d rather take a shuttle next time. If there was a next time. 

Before he could fully begin to hate the process, he finished the step he had begun to take and found himself on the platform on Chulak. 

Teal’c took his arm and led him down the stairs. Hutch shook his head to dispel the last of the slight dizziness the trip had caused. He was not at all unhappy with the method of travel, now that it was over. He actually smiled at Teal’c’s smirk. “You get used to it, right?”

Teal’c nodded, then strode toward an old man hurrying to meet them. Teal’c met him forearm to forearm, his left arm going around the man’s shoulders in a brief hug. He stepped back and turned to Hutch. “Kenneth Hutchinson, allow me to present Master Bra’tac.”

“I’m honored, sir.” Hutch held out his right arm, and it was clasped, as Teal’c’s had been. “I’ve read about you and everything you’ve done to help Colonel O’Neill and his team.”

“I did not do it for them,” Bra’tac replied, sonorously. “I did it for Teal’c, and for my people.”

“I understand.” Hutch was impressed by the commanding presence of the elderly Jaffa.

“Has anything else happened?” Teal’c demanded, his patience clearly gone. “Are they still in the fortifications?”

Bra’tac led the way to a tent where maps were spread. He pointed to a location. “They are still there. We have attempted to get close but they have staff weapons and several of our people have been injured.”

Hutch studied the map, then turned to Teal’c and Bra’tac. “Can someone lead me and a few men up the back? Is there a trail? Or would the hill have to be climbed?”

“There is a very old trail.” Bra’tac motioned to a couple of young men. He led the way out of the tent, pointing toward the rise in question. “It has not been used since the structure on top was abandoned but I am sure it can be negotiated without much difficulty. These two will lead you.” He spoke quietly to the men and then motioned others forward, until there was a group of twelve able-bodied, well-armed men around them.

Hutch turned to Teal’c, “When Bra’tac thinks enough time has passed for my men and I to have reached the back of the hill and started up, I’ll need you, and as large a group of armed men as you can gather, twenty at least, to start up the front.”

He looked at the faces of those who would make the frontal assault, then back at Teal’c. “Make a lot of noise, shouting and arguing with each other about what methods of execution you’re going to use, once the rebels have been captured. And make it clear that any harm done to the hostages will result in a lingering and more painful death. Stay out of range until you hear my voice but scare them, Teal’c. Scare them as badly as you can, and keep their attention.”

Hutch felt like Teal’c’s look of determination should be sufficient to scare anybody. He took out his weapon and checked it one more time as Teal’c gathered the men who would accompany him. Hutch’s team, including some of his SH agents, gathered around him. 

“Teal’c, please tell your men --” 

“They all speak your language, Kenneth Hutchinson,” Teal’c told him. “It has been a necessity, and they have enjoyed the challenge.”

“That makes things easier,” Hutch said, sincerely. “First though, I have a question. How much daylight do we have left?” 

“Night will not fall for many hours yet,” Bra’tac answered. Then he looked pointedly at Hutch’s clothes. “Would you not like to change your attire, Kenneth Hutchinson? I am sure we could find something to fit you.”

Hutch looked down at his favorite suit. “I’d rather not wait.” He holstered his weapon, unbuttoned the jacket and took it off, loosened his tie and removed that. “If you’d put these in the tent for me though, I’d really appreciate it.”

Bra’tac reached for the items and folded them over his arm. “I will make sure nothing happens to them.”

Hutch nodded his thanks and motioned to the men around him. “Let’s go, guys. We want everybody back down here before dark, with no injuries. I don’t want any of you trying to be heroes.” He met the eyes of each of the volunteers. “We’ll find out what we’re facing when we get up there. After that you follow my lead. If we can get behind them without being seen, since they’ll be paying attention to Teal’c, they’ll never know we’re there until we want them to. And then it will be too late.” 

He looked to Teal’c and Bra’tac for confirmation before motioning for one of the local men to take the lead. Unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them up as he moved, he fell in behind the trailblazer.

*******

Hutch had been on several ‘rescue missions’ but it had always been with his partner, a man he trusted completely and implicitly. They had known each other’s thoughts and plans without words. When Starsky died though, that trust died with him. So it was with whispered words and gestures that Hutch instructed the twelve men to make their way, silently, to the two sentries stationed at the broken entrances to the old fortification. Their backs were to the doorways, their attention focused on the front of the ruin. 

Hutch indicated that the guards were to be subdued quietly, without injuring them, if possible. Not one of the malcontents had paid any attention to their approach up the old trail. They were too intent on the loud voices coming from the front of the structure. Teal’c’s booming exhortations could be heard above the rest, presumably calling for the death and destruction of every one of the insurgents by extremely bloody means. Hutch actually shuddered at the dire tone of Teal’c’s voice, since he didn’t understand the words. 

With a minimum of fuss and no wasted effort on the part of Hutch’s rescue team, the rebels were subdued, surrounded and captured with no injuries to anyone. The hostages were released to the joy of Teal’c and his front-of-the-hill group. Rya’c was enfolded in the arms of his father. 

In his peripheral vision, while attending to the prisoners, Hutch saw Rya’c ‘suffer’ this display for several moments. 

The young Jaffa asserted his grown up status at last by stepping back, his hands on Teal’c shoulders. “Well done, Father.”

Teal’c led Rya’c to where Hutch was supervising the tying of the captives in preparation for the trek down the hill. He didn’t want anyone to fall or attempt to escape. Teal’c waited for a break in Hutch’s instructions then put a hand on his shoulder. Hutch turned to the Jaffa and his son. 

“Kenneth Hutchinson, this is my son, Rya’c,” Teal’c intoned with great dignity. “Rya’c, this is the Tyree who risked his life to save yours.”

“Nonsense, Teal’c,” Hutch responded, embarrassed. “I was only doing my job.”

Rya’c looked at his father, then at Hutch. He held out his right arm, which Hutch grasped in the now familiar greeting. “I am pleased to meet you, Kenneth Hutchinson.”

“The pleasure is mine, Rya’c.” Hutch smiled the kind of smile that lights rooms. “I’m glad we were able to get up here in time.”

“Oh, they were not going to harm any of us,” was Rya’c’s decidedly-adult-sounding response. He turned toward Teal’c. “They were trying to make a statement. We need to listen to them, Father.”

“And we will,” Teal’c replied, seriously, putting his arm around Rya’c’s shoulders. “But not tonight. Tonight is for celebrating your rescue. As soon as I return from telling Ernest and Katherine what has happened.” 

He pulled his son into another embrace.

*******

Arriving back on Earth, the gate room was so crowded, it looked as if everyone in the facility was there to greet them. The cheering began as soon as Teal’c’s foot hit the ramp. Hutch was next out of the rippling pool and Teal’c immediately put his arm around Hutch’s shoulders as he was still adjusting his jacket and tie. They walked down to the floor, where Katherine and Ernest waited. The applause and cheers faded.

Katherine hugged both of them, followed by Dr. Littlefield, to Teal’c’s apparent chagrin and Hutch’s embarrassment. 

Ernest stepped back, took Katherine’s hand again, and addressed the room. “Thank you, everyone, so much, for caring about what happened today. Each of you had a part in this rescue and you should be very proud.” 

The cheering began again as Katherine and Ernest led Hutch and Teal’c toward the elevator.

Hutch noticed Carl, his former-marine agent, at the front edge of the assembly and gave him a significant nod of thanks. 

Dr. Jackson walked out of the crowd at the back of the room and embraced Teal’c. “I knew you wouldn’t need me. There was never any doubt.” He stepped back and grinned at his tall, gold-embossed friend. 

“Thank you, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c replied, solemnly. “You were correct. As usual.”

Jackson turned to Katherine and Ernest. “I know you have things you need to talk about with Mr. Hutchinson, but could I please appropriate him for a little while? I believe he was on his way to my office when all this happened.” He raised a questioning eyebrow toward Hutch, who nodded, then looked back at Katherine. “I promise I’ll send him up just as soon as we’re finished.”

Katherine’s smile was radiant and it appeared to Hutch that she knew exactly what Jackson had in mind, but said nothing. Holding her hand out to Teal’c, she turned her smile to him. “Tell us everything, Teal’c! How is Rya’c?”

The three of them entered the elevator when its doors opened. Jackson led Hutch to the stairwell, where they climbed one level. 

Hutch felt slightly disoriented. He realized he was walking toward the office he had been heading to several hours previously, having had an almost Alice-In-Wonderland experience in between. 

*******

Sitting in the archivist’s office, Hutch drank reasonably good coffee. His somewhat unsettled feelings were dissipating and he found he was satisfied with the way the unexpected rescue mission had gone. Now he was trying to figure out how to ask the questions he needed answered. 

Jackson sat behind his desk, clutching his own coffee mug tightly. “We don’t usually introduce people to off-world travel like that, Mr. Hutchinson. Are you okay?”

“I thought we covered this,” Hutch reminded him. “I’m Ken, remember? And, yes, I’m fine.” 

Jackson took a deep breath. “I remember. And I’m Daniel.”

Hutch took another swallow of coffee before balancing the mug on his knee. “You told me, last night, Daniel, you had something to show me?” His voice put the query into the statement.

Daniel nodded, but didn’t speak.

“First though,” Hutch said, a slight edge to his voice, “I’m confused about what that was all about in the gate room, earlier. How could you possibly have known enough about me to say what you did to Teal’c?”

“Would you bear with me for a few minutes, please, Ken?” Jackson asked, uncomfortably. “I had a whole scenario planned out and this morning’s activities have scrambled it a bit.”

Hutch waited, patiently.

“You’ll understand, I promise, but please let me explain things from the beginning. All right?”

Hutch took a swallow of coffee. “Of course, Daniel.” He balanced the cup on his knee again. “Tell me whatever you’d like, in whatever order you want.”

“Thank you,” Jackson replied. He drank some coffee and was silent for a few moments. “You know we’ve been having quite a problem with what we technically term ‘crazies.’”

“Yes, I’ve read the files.” Hutch tried to hide a smile, but failed.

Daniel’s return smile was rueful. “We seem to attract them. Some are so rabid in their disbelief that other worlds and civilizations exist, that they want to destroy the whole facility and all of us who spread such blasphemy.”  
He paused for a moment. “Others want to go so badly, they’ll try anything. We had one young man, a circus performer, stow away in an equipment carrier. He had folded himself into a compartment that was only fifteen inches on a side.”

“I guess he really wanted to go.”

“You could say that. But others have tried to become Tour Guides, or hire on as a body guard for someone already scheduled. We even had one man who kidnapped a gentlemen set for our first Nox homeworld tour, and tried to take his place. He almost made it, too.” Daniel shuddered. “Lya would never have forgiven us.”

“I’m surprised you managed to get the Nox to agree to hosting tours. I thought they had buried their gate.”

“They had,” Daniel agreed. “But after they decided to help relocate the Tollan, Katherine had a chance to talk with them. She can be very persuasive. She convinced them that hosting a tour once every six months wouldn’t put too much of a strain on them. Especially since our people would only be allowed in and around the very small settlement. The Nox themselves wouldn’t have to be involved at all unless they wanted to be.” He smiled to himself. “Their children are as curious as ours.” 

Jackson tented his fingers, and his voice softened. “I also think they did it so that they could keep an eye on us. The Nox, along with the Asgard, think of humans as youngsters who have been given technology much too advanced for them. They worry.”

“As they probably should.” 

Daniel’s gaze lost focus for a few moments. “Yes, well…” He brought himself back to the present and went on. “The initial Nox tour was a complete success. And even though it’s our most expensive, it’s booked up for the next six years.” He grinned at Hutch’s surprise. “Now all we have to do is to keep the ‘crazies’ away.”

Hutch finished his coffee. “Don’t worry, Daniel. My company will --”

“I know you will, Ken,” Daniel interrupted, holding up his hand. “That’s why we hired you. We found out, from all the others, that you were the best. Not the biggest. But definitely the best.” Hutch cocked an eyebrow. “You see, we made a few trips into alternates and found out who they’d hired. In every case except one, it was Starsky and Hutchinson. In that one case they were still with Sony but that won’t last long.”

“I’m sorry, Daniel, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. What ‘alternates’?”

“That’s a cue if I ever heard one.” Daniel put his cup down and stood up. “Would you come with me, please?”

Hutch got up, put his cup on the edge of the desk. When Daniel opened the door and gestured, Hutch went out and Daniel followed. 

In the hallway, Daniel turned right and led the way to a door, two doors down, heavily protected with two dead bolts, and an electronic keypad. Daniel produced keys, unlocked the bolts, punched a six digit code into the keypad, and opened the door after the lock clicked, motioning Hutch in first.

Hutch scanned the object-filled room with awe and fascination. A single object in the corner drew and held his attention: a standing oddly-shaped mirror in a frame that appeared to be made of some sort of stone. Without knowing why he approached it, Daniel following behind.

Strangely, the mirror showed nothing, no reflection of the room at all. Still, Hutch couldn’t pull his eyes away. He was pretty sure he knew what he was looking at. “This is the Ancients’ Mirror, isn’t it?”

“I thought you might have read that file.” Daniel’s tone was noncommittal.

“I’ve read most of the mission files,” Hutch replied. “Thankfully, Senator Kinsey had them declassified. They’re the reason why I lost many a night’s sleep.”

“I’m pleased you found our activities interesting.”

“Don’t be coy, Daniel,” Hutch said, a bit acerbically, “it doesn’t suit you. What you and Colonel O’Neill, Captain Carter and Teal’c have done is worthy of entire shelves in any library. People should be able to read about all the places you’ve been!” 

As he continued to stare at the mirror, the unrelieved gray began to diffuse and three people appeared. 

“Starsk,” Hutch whispered, taking an unintentional step back.

“Yes, Ken,” Daniel said, quietly. “You, me, and your partner.”

“An alternate reality? Like in your mission report?”

“Yes.”

“He’s alive.” Hutch stared at Starsky’s image. “This is what Ernest and Sam meant when they told me not to give up. They said anything was possible.”

“When did they say that?” Daniel asked, sharply. “I told them not to --”

“Don’t be angry with them, Daniel,” Hutch stopped him, gently. “They didn’t mean any harm.”

The mirror image dissolved and the same three people reappeared; same, but different. Hutch stared, his mind recording every nuance of Starsky’s appearance. As the image shifted again, he put out his hand, hesitantly.

“Don’t touch.” Daniel reached for his arm. 

“Why not?” Hutch angrily shook off the hand. “You went through. I want to see my partner!”

“You can’t, Ken,” Daniel stated, calmly. “Not yet anyway. If you went into that reality, it would create all kinds of problems.” 

He took Hutch’s arm and dragged him away from in front of the mirror. Taking the items off the seats of two chairs, he sat in one and motioned Hutch to sit in the other.

“Why did you show me this, if you won’t let me go, Daniel?” Hutch voice cracked as he watched the image of the three people fade.

“If you did what your heart wants right now,” Daniel explained, “you and the Hutchinson that’s already there would be in conflict for the space and energy. Ask Sam sometime, she calls it the Cascade Effect. According to her, it’s not something you want to experience.”

“Yeah, I remember about that now.” Hutch slumped, trying to absorb what he’d witnessed. “Starsky is alive.”

“Yes.”

“In some alternate reality.”

“In quite a few, actually.” Daniel was suddenly cheerful. “I’ve met him in three, Jack’s met him in two others, and Sam has met him in two more. It’s by doing all this mirror travel that we learned who to hire for security.” He put a hand on Hutch’s arm. “But we didn’t always meet both of you.”

“He’s dead in my reality.” Hutch knew his voice was barely audible.

“And in one of his, you’re dead,” Daniel told him. “It was while Jack and Sam and I were talking with all of you that we discovered how tight you two are. It’s the most compelling partnership any of us has ever seen. And it’s why I’ve become obsessed, I guess you’d say, with getting the two of you, who are alone, together. Either here, or in his reality.”

“You can do that?” Hutch asked, in stunned disbelief.

“I believe I can.”

“How?”

Daniel glanced at the mirror. “Do you need to see any more? Or can we go back to my office?”

Hutch stared at the now-blank mirror and got up, only slightly shakily. “Let’s go.” 

Daniel stood and led the way back to his office. When they got there, he poured them each another cup of coffee. Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he produced a bottle of some dark-tea-colored liquid. Holding it up to Hutch, he raised his eyebrows. Hutch, after a moment, nodded. Daniel added a generous dollop to each of their cups, put the bottle back in the drawer and smiled. “Medicinal use only, of course.”

Hutch didn’t bother to comment, just took a long drink of the doctored coffee. He didn’t like to admit how much he had needed that. He sank into his chair and looked at Daniel as he sat down again, too. “Do you have any idea what causes the alternates?” 

Instead of answering the question, Daniel asked one of his own. “Have you ever heard the theory that, every time you make a choice, two separate realities are created?”

Hutch thought a moment. “I don’t think so.” 

“Well, it’s one possibility for what we see in the mirror.” 

Hutch felt himself being appraised again, as Jackson stared at him.

“I’ve read the deep background Sony did on you and your partner, Ken. I know that, at one time, you had considered law school as well as medical school, but decided on the Police Academy instead. If the theory is true, there are two realities out there, just as valid as this one, where you’re a lawyer, and a doctor, possibly still married to Vanessa. And where you never met your partner.”

Hutch couldn’t force his mind to accept either of those scenarios at all.

“But, in your reality, Ken,” Daniel continued, “you went to the Academy, partnered with Mr. Starsky for many years, first as a cop, then in the security business, and became the you that’s sitting here today.”

Unable to avoid it, Hutch thought about the possibilities.

“You were still affected by choices though,” Daniel went on as if he had read Hutch’s thought. “You had to decide whether or not to accept a certain client, how aggressively to pursue information if an innocent would be adversely affected, whether or not to help a family member who seemed to be in trouble…”

Hutch immediately thought of Nick.

“… or any of a myriad of other choices you and your partner faced every day. All could have created the realities you saw in the mirror.” 

“If the theory’s true,” Hutch thought-out-loud, “the number of alternates must be limitless.”

“Infinite.” Daniel raised a cautionary hand. “Within reason though. I don’t think decisions such as which color socks to wear create lasting alternatives. I believe that such close parallels absorb each other quickly. The alternates that exist are created by major choices.”

Hutch drank more coffee. “What now?”

“I need you to be a little patient with me, Ken. It’s why I approached you first. I didn’t think Mr. Starsky would be willing to wait while I tried to arrange things.”

“You do know him.” Hutch had to smile.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” Daniel replied, self-deprecatingly. “I’ve met him. And I didn’t get the feeling patience was something he practiced a lot.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Come back in a week.” Daniel glanced at his watch. “About this time in the afternoon. If I’ve been able to --”

“Wait a minute,” Hutch interrupted. “Which Daniel Jackson are you, the one from my reality? Or his?”

“His.”

“Where are you in this one? Aren’t you afraid of that thing Sam called the…”

“Cascade Effect. Yes, I’m leery of it,” Daniel replied. “I can handle a little but I do my best to avoid it. In this reality, I’m doing research on P2X-771 and not expected back for a few more weeks. The people here are pretty used to my popping in a lot, though. They know I’m mirror traveling.”

Hutch sat back and drank more coffee as a thought struck him. “That’s the reason why you couldn’t go with Teal’c this morning, isn’t it? Because this isn’t your reality.”

“Yes. When I’m in my alternates, I try not to interact with anybody more than I absolutely have to. And gate travel in an alternate is not something I want to repeat very often. But you also understand now, why I could say what I did to Teal’c, about being able to trust you. I’ve met you many times, Ken Hutchinson, and I believe I’m a pretty good judge of character.” He stared at Hutch with conviction. “I meant very word I said to Teal’c.”

Hutch found himself almost blushing from the faith in him Jackson had demonstrated. “Thank you, Daniel Jackson.”

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Daniel went on, “a week from today, I’m going to try and have Mr. Starsky in the mirror room in his reality. I’ll have attempted to explain everything to him and, hopefully, when his mirror cycles around to an image of you, alone, he’ll come through.” He raised his hands and shrugged. “After that, it’s up to you two.”

“If I’m alone,” Hutch asked, “how are you going to get the mirror on that side to find me?”

“I’ll have Mr. Starsky with me,” Daniel said, reassuringly. “I don’t think it will be a problem.” 

“What if the mirror cycles through alternates connected to both of you and never gets to the one here?”

“Are you always this detail-oriented?” Daniel asked, rubbing his face.

“Pretty much.” Hutch needed the information.

“Sam told me you were.” Daniel got up and began pacing around the desk, running his hands through his hair. “Ever since our long talk last night, I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain things to you without sounding like a certifiable idiot, or one of the ‘crazies’ we’re so concerned about. I’m not really sure but --”

“You’re not really _sure_?” Hutch stood up and put out a hand to stop Jackson in mid-stride.

“No, Mr. Hutchinson, I’m not.” Daniel’s voice was laced with sarcasm and sudden irritation. “You see, as far as we know, no one’s ever tried this kind of thing before. I’m makin’ it up as I go along. Is that okay with you?” He shook off Hutch’s hand, went back behind his desk and sat down. “You can always quit and go home, you know. It won’t affect your security contract, I promise. I haven’t approached Mr. Starsky yet, so he’d never know you opted out of this chance.”

Hutch stood, speechless. After a few moments, he sat down again and smiled at Daniel, ruefully. “Sorry. Starsky always said I think too much.”

“Sam told me that, too.” Jackson returned Hutch’s rueful smile. “Anyway, as I started to say, I’m not really sure but I’ve talked about it with Sam and she thinks it’ll work. Also, I’ve been doing so much traveling lately I feel sure, if I concentrate hard enough, the mirror will show me what I want to see. Which will be you, alone, in this reality’s mirror room.” 

He snapped his fingers. “I need you to be wearing some piece of clothing Mr. Starsky will recognize, but not see you wearing in other alternates.”

“I have a letterman’s jacket,” Hutch said, after only a moment’s thought. “I haven’t worn it since we formed the company. It has white leather sleeves. The front and back are a really dark green that looks black in some lights. Would that work?”

“That would be perfect.”

Hutch got up, put his coffee cup on the desk, and reached across to shake Daniel’s hand. “A week from today, Daniel. I’ll be here.”

“I don’t have spare keys to the mirror room, so I’ll meet you here. I never lock this office by the way. Shouldn’t say that to our Chief of Security I guess, but…” he shrugged and Hutch didn’t comment. “Please be patient because I have no idea how long it will take me to convince your partner I’m not some scam artist.”

“Oh, he’ll believe you.” Hutch tried to smile but was pretty sure it wasn’t convincing. “Eventually. He won’t be able to help himself. As you say though, it may take some time.” He lifted a hand in reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.” 

“As soon as I get here, I’ll take you into the mirror room and then travel to Mr. Starsky’s reality. I have an unusual artifact in a specific place there so that I can always identify the correct room. After I leave, you’ll have to wait for Mr. Starsky to come to you. Don’t stand in front of the mirror though, that would probably confuse things.”

“Why don’t I just go back with you?”

“I’d have thought you’d want some privacy for the reunion.”

After a moment, Hutch nodded. 

“Also,” Daniel continued, “it would complicate things a little more if you two decided to come back here.”

“I understand.” Hutch attempted to calm the butterflies in his stomach. “I think.”

“Good. I’m glad one of us does. Now, if you have a little more time, I’m sure Katherine and Ernest are waiting to say ‘thanks’. Again.”

 

PART TWO

After his tour guide, Heather, walked away, David Starsky mentally shook himself out of the ‘enchanted’ state she’d left him in. He had a brief conversation with his late partner and walked toward the plain wooden door of Ernest and Katherine Littlefield’s office. 

His firm had been approached a month earlier about submitting a proposal for updated security protocols and revised procedures for this extremely popular facility. He had done some deep research on the project, learned the current status of security, and all the problems they’d had. He’d known his company could help. They were small, compared to the multi-national, multi-city corporations flooding the new security-conscious market, but they knew their stuff. Their personnel and agents had street experience in protecting people and businesses, not just book learning and college degrees. 

He had actually come down during the first month the facility was open, telling his COO he would be checking into a prospective client. Cal had known, of course, that his boss simply couldn’t stay away from a place that promised to be a Disneyland on steroids. 

Starsky had thoroughly enjoyed his day ‘playing hooky.’ He had walked the entire place, pointing things out to Hutch, laughing at the curious looks he got from passersby. “That’s okay, partner, don’t pay them any mind. Hey! Can you believe this _garden_? I’ll bet there are plants here even you can’t identify! What’s that one, huh? It looks something like that thing you called a sheff… sheffa… Well, anyway, a sheff-something, but the leaves are so much bigger! What are they feeding them? The occasional tourist?” This had brought more concerned looks from those who had overheard. Starsky had simply smiled and walked on. 

He had watched a ‘gate operation’ in the dome and been amazed. Making beautiful scantily-clad women and very large animals disappear was common in Vegas, but this show was something else. As the actors had walked up the ramp and then through the light effect in the center of the ring, they had… vanished. Smoke and mirrors had to be the answer, Starsky knew, but that hadn’t affected his pleasure and appreciation. 

He had applauded, along with all the other spectators, having had no interest in knowing how the illusion had been created; that would have ruined everything. “I love magic,” he had said, and saw those around him nodding. As he left the dome he had realized that, all in all, he was having the most enjoyable day he’d had in almost five years.

*******

After officially being asked to make a proposal, Starsky had come down for a meeting with several of the principals a few weeks ago. He and Colonel O’Neill hadn’t hit it off right away. Starsky thought it was possibly because they were both choosey about who they befriended and had strong opinions about most things, usually opposed to everyone else’s. It was when they had discovered their mutual distrust of, and disgust for stuffed shirts in general, and politicians in particular, that they had shaken hands again, as if for the first time. 

“Call me Jack,” the Colonel had said.

“I’m Dave,” Starsky had replied, grasping the firm hand.

Mrs. Littlefield had been quiet and unassuming, but had encouraged him to submit a proposal, saying she just knew it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. He had sensed an underlying meaning in her words. Before he could ask about it though, she had shaken his hand, peering deeply, he felt, into his damaged, shuttered soul. 

“We’ll see you again, very soon, Mr. Starsky.” Saying nothing more, Mrs. Littlefield had walked away.

Starsky had been left with the certainty that she knew something he didn’t, and that he definitely wanted to find out what it was. Also, he had realized the emptiness that was his heart didn’t hurt quite as badly as it had that morning. “Huh,” he had muttered, on the way out of the conference room. “How’d she do that, Hutch? Make me feel as if you were right there with us. That was downright spooky. But good spooky, if you know what I mean. ‘Course you do, buddy, you always know what I mean.”

His step, on his way to meeting the guide for his brief official tour of the facility, had been lighter, too. He had said nothing about already having been there and had paid strict attention to everything he was shown, everywhere they went. The tour had concentrated on the dome and its environs, since that was the area Sony thought was the most at-risk. Starsky had believed otherwise but decided he’d wait until it became his firm’s responsibility before addressing the issue.

Driving home, his big red Ford pickup had had to practically make its own way through traffic since Starsky had been involved in ‘talking’ with his partner. “I don’t know, Hutch, what do you think? The public gate is quite a spectacle and there’s no harm in that. But what about the _real_ one in the basement of the tower? That one’s supposed to take people to other planets. And I really don’t know about that. It can’t be true…. Can it? And if it’s all a scam, do we want to be part of it? We’re getting a really good reputation and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that, but… but, what if it is real, Hutch? Can you imagine? Walking through a shimmering ring and ending up on another world? In a completely different _solar system_? Man, what would George Lucas say?” 

He had laughed at himself, as he had known Hutch would be laughing. Then he had sobered. “I miss you so much, babe.”

He had written the proposal and sent it in, having ‘discussed’ it again with Hutch. They had decided that, if they got the job and it turned out the off-world part was a scam, they’d bow out gracefully. He had heard nothing until yesterday, when he’d received a call. He’d been asked if he could come to Long Beach and meet with Dr. and Mrs. Littlefield today. He’d said sure.

When he’d arrived, he’d been told his appointment had been re-scheduled so that he could be given a full, detailed tour of the facility first. His guide this time had been a lovely green-eyed, red-haired beauty, dressed spectacularly in a pants suit of some shimmery golden material and a red silk blouse. Her walk said ‘athlete’ but Starsky couldn’t decide which of many possible sports she might pursue. She could be a black belt in karate, or a soccer player, an Olympic swimmer, a cyclist, or even a mountain climber. Possibly all of the above. Her name was Heather.

She had smiled winningly at him as she pinned a Visitor’s badge on the pocket of his suit coat, a medium charcoal gray that complimented his curly salt ‘n’ pepper hair. The pocket square and tie were the same midnight blue as his eyes. The shirt was silk, of a slightly lighter blue. Huggy had taken Starsky’s wardrobe upon himself when the firm had gone LLC, saying a CEO couldn’t walk around in sport coats and jeans. And blue Adidas. Somewhat sadly at first, but more comfortably as time went on, Starsky had fully adopted the sartorial splendor. 

Heather had showed him all around the public areas of the facility. They had seen the theater, the exhibits, and taken the ‘history walk’ through landscaped grounds that duplicated, as closely as possible, many of the environments the teams had visited over the years. 

She had been, at times, funny, shy, teasing, assertive, coy, even flirtatious; in short, all the things he liked in a woman. She had walked quite close to him, touching arms and shoulders often, and had found reasons to put her hand on his arm more often than he suspected was usual. But it was a warm hand and it had felt good. 

Her perfume, if it was perfume, was heady and alluring, a scent she seemed to make sure he was aware of at all times. He had found himself thinking that, if his firm got the contract, he wanted to come back down and see if the lovely Heather would have dinner with him. He hadn’t been as strongly attracted to a woman in a very long time.

After the public areas, she had taken him to see the gate room in the sub-basement of the tower building from the vantage point of the window-walled control room, above. Heather had stood at the back of the room as Starsky looked down at the orchestrated chaos below. ‘I wish you could see this place, Hutch,’ he had thought. 

A tour had been scheduled to depart for Chulak soon and activity had been hectic. People had been milling about excitedly, then gathered into a group, while technicians took care of last minute details. 

The portal itself had been imposing and impressive, possibly the most impressive… thing… Starsky had ever seen. The mock-up in the dome was simply a great prop compared to this! He’d read the brochures and the news articles, of course, but he still didn’t believe it could do what all the hyperbole claimed. His innate child-like desire to embrace all things new and different couldn’t quite be rationalized with his adult skepticism and professional cynicism about something so bizarre. As much as he might want to believe, until he had experienced it himself, he was going to have his doubts. Transport people to other planets? Probably not in this lifetime, pal. 

But he ‘and Hutch’ had decided as long as it wasn’t hurting anyone, if folks wanted to shell out good money to be fooled, who were they to say no? He was only here observing, after all, not yet responsible for making sure security was tight and nobody got hurt. In case his firm got the job though, he had allowed his former-cop sense to study the room as well as everything and everyone in it. 

The tour had consisted of ten people, six women, four men. All were adults, dressed casually but warmly, and standing near the bottom of the ramp. Each was wearing an identity tag with photo and, presumably name, which he couldn’t read from where he was. 

They were attended, he almost thought ‘herded,’ by four on-site guides, distinguished by their dark blue uniforms and Stargate shoulder patches. There were two additional guides, dressed in full mission regalia, who were most likely going with the tour. 

One of the on-site guides, a young man who appeared to be fresh out of high school, kept glancing around and looking nervously at his watch. Starsky’s hackles had risen a little but he had chided himself. The guy was probably new, maybe this was his first tour. Give the kid a break, he had thought. 

Nothing else in the control or gate room had caught his specific attention so he had turned to Heather as she glanced at her watch. 

“We really should leave if you are going to get to your meeting,” she had cooed.

“After you.” He had gestured to the door through which they had entered. 

She had smiled and led the way out of the control room to the elevator, where she pressed the ‘UP’ button. When it had arrived, she had gone with him, standing close and leaning slightly against him. They got off on Seven. 

She had offered him her hand and he had taken it, smiling. “Thank you, Heather, it’s been a grand tour.”

She had kissed his cheek, giving him another chance to inhale her scent, after which she had stepped back and released his hand. “The office is just down there…” she indicated Starsky’s left “at the end of the hall. They are expecting you.”

She had turned in the opposite direction and left him. He had watched her until she rounded the corner, not looking back. He had stood still trying to re-focus his thoughts. “Wow, I feel like I’ve been run over, Hutch.” He had glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “But in a nice way, ya know? If you were here, we might be fighting over a woman again, pal.” 

He had shaken himself then and begun walking slowly toward the Littlefield’s office. “Naw, I didn’t mean that. If you were interested in her, I’d step away. We promised, remember? Never again.”

As he was reaching for the door knob, a strident alarm blared and red lights, recessed into ceiling alcoves, began to rotate rapidly. Instantly, Starsky crouched and drew his automatic from its shoulder holster under his right arm, spinning and trying to determine from which direction the danger would come. 

After only a moment, the office door opened and Ernest and Katherine Littlefield hurried out, hand in hand, their eyes wide with obvious concern and uncertainty. Starsky straightened up quickly, holding his weapon down at his side. The couple stopped in their tracks, staring at him. 

“Mr. Starsky, please come with us,” Mrs. Littlefield said, having found her voice first. They walked quickly toward the elevator. “We’re needed in the gate room.”

Starsky knew, in his cop’s heart, that he should have paid more attention to the nervous kid. He shoved that thought aside, sprinted to the elevator ahead of the couple and hit the ‘DOWN’ button. He turned and waited for them. “Does the elevator work during an emergency?” 

Producing a key card and inserting it in the requisite slot in the control plate, Ernest Littlefield nodded. “It does now.”

The elevator doors opened and they all entered. Ernest pressed the ‘GR’ button and the elevator began to descend. 

“We’re terribly sorry to ask your help,” Mrs. Littlefield said, breaking the tense silence, “especially since it’s not your job yet. We seem to have an emergency. Someone has taken hostages.”

“I have a feeling I know who it is.” Starsky donned his professional take-charge mantle, holding her gaze. “And he’s probably not acting alone. Could we get off on the control room level?”

Ernest quickly hit the ‘CR’ button and the elevator came to an almost immediate halt. The doors opened and Starsky held out his arm, keeping the couple inside, while he glanced in both directions. Alarms blared and red lights rotated on this level, too, but no one was in sight. Starsky exited slowly, motioned the others out and to stay behind him. They did so.

Keeping against the wall, Starsky held his right hand behind him, indicating the Littlefields should stay there. He made his way to the nearby control room.

Peering quickly around the door jamb, he ducked back and assessed what he’d seen. Three members of the operations team were standing stiffly at the window, looking down into the gate room. Two scruffily dressed men were holding guns to the heads of two of the team, their hands shaking so badly it was likely at least one of the weapons would discharge accidentally. 

Not being able to see what was happening below, Starsky knew that these two scruffians had to be taken out of the picture first. He looked back at the elderly couple, motioning them to stay in the hallway, against the wall. They nodded. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slipped his gun into the waistband at the back of his trousers. Then he stepped into the control room. “Wha’s happ’nen, boys?” 

The two guntoters spun toward him, moving their weapons from the controllers’ heads, and attempting to train them on him. 

Starsky dropped and rolled to his left, pulling his weapon, as a bullet hit the wall behind where he had been standing. Starsky fired as he rolled, hitting the first gunman in the forehead. A second bullet hit the wall behind Starsky as he kept rolling behind a control panel. A third caused sparks to fly as Starsky unexpectedly rolled back into the room and fired at the second gunman who was trying to pull a crouching technician to his feet. Starsky’s bullet caught the perp in the chest and his expression, as he fell, was one of complete surprise. 

Starsky jumped to his feet and ran to the window. He could see that none of the three control team members was seriously injured, simply terrified. He looked down into the gate room.

The Nervous Tour Guide had two women from the tour in front of him on the ramp, an arm tightly around each neck. His right hand held a gun. He was looking up at the control room and saw Starsky come into view. “Don’t move, or I’ll break their necks!” he screamed.

Starsky looked down at the kid while he calmly holstered his weapon. “Yeah?” He laced his voice with scorn. “Then what?” He glanced at the two gunmen on the floor behind him then down again at the Nervous Tour Guide. “Your friends are dead, kid. You can’t possibly get out of here. If you hurt anyone, I’ll amend that to ‘you can’t possibly get out of here _alive’_.” He headed toward a circular stairway leading down to the gate room, keeping his eyes locked on the young man so that he felt compelled to keep looking up at Starsky. “Give it up. What were you hoping to accomplish anyway?” 

Starsky stopped at the top of the stairs when the Nervous Guide flew into a rage, throwing his hostages away from him and brandishing the gun. 

“They gotta stop takin’ people away and bringin’ back _dupes_!” His words quickly followed each other without breaths between sentences, without conscious thought; a stream of diatribe. “I’ve been reading about this place, ever since it opened up. They take people on ‘tours’ and when they come back… they’re… they’re _different_! They’re not the same as they were! They’re happy, and they can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout the planet they went to, an’ they can’t wait t’ go back! My parents went. Spent all my college money!”

Starsky immediately wondered why ‘college money’ would have been put aside for this loser. He couldn’t waste time speculating however, as the young man’s frustration was clearly mounting.

“Chulak!” the kid shouted, storming around the room. “That’s where they say they went. Couldn’t stop talking about it. About Teal’c. Said they met him, said he was the most incredible man they’d ever seen. ‘Cept he wasn’t a man! He was a… a Jaffa! Whatever the hell that’s supposed t’ mean! Didn’t make no sense. _They_ didn’t make no sense. They’re not my parents any more! This place changed ‘em! An’ I gotta stop letting ‘em do that t’ people.” 

He began waving the gun around again, pointing it at technicians, then at the members of the tour who were crouched at the foot of the ramp. Their arms were around each other and most were crying. The remaining on- and off-site tour guides were doing their best to protect them. 

It was then that Starsky noticed the project’s archivist, Daniel Jackson, in the crowd. Jackson calmly motioned one of the tour guides to take over protecting the terrified woman he’d had his arms around. He began walking toward the berserk kid. 

Starsky’s instinct told him the young gunman was reaching the limit of his control and that everyone in the room below was in imminent danger. He flew down the stairs, reaching the bottom as the kid stopped his erratic motion, the gun now pointing straight at Jackson.

Starsky stepped deliberately between the young guide and the archivist, close enough now to read the kid’s name badge. He slowly approached the hostile youth. 

“Nelson,” Starsky said, soothingly. “Is that your name? Nelson?” 

Nelson nodded, uncertainty now in his face and posture. 

“You want to go there yourself, don’t you, Nelson?” Starsky spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. “To Chulak.” He continued to approach the young man. “Then you’d know what made your parents so happy.” He spoke softly, no threat or hurry in his voice or expression. “They didn’t used to be, I’ll bet. But they are now. So you want to know what made them change. On Chulak. You think you might be happy there, too, right? Maybe you could even meet… Teal’c, was it?” 

Nelson nodded, unmistakably encouraged that someone understood him. 

“Teal’c,” Starsky repeated. “Say! I’d like to meet that guy myself. If you go there, think you could introduce us? He sounds like somebody I’d really --” 

He was close enough now that an easy jump and clasp had Nelson’s gun hand in his iron grip. Using that grip, Starsky spun the young man around as his other arm snaked around Nelson’s neck, pinning the would-be killer to him. Two members of the facility’s supposed security team approached cautiously. 

“Take his gun!” Starsky’s voice was neutral-bordering-on-contempt. 

The older security man carefully took the gun out of Nelson’s hand. The other agent slipped an industrial cable tie on the kid’s right wrist. Starsky released his hold on Nelson’s neck and the second agent turned him around, attaching the cable tie to the left wrist, behind Nelson’s back. 

Applause, sporadic at first, then increasing in speed and volume, broke out all over the room. 

Starsky looked around while he brushed some dust off the shoulders and knees of his suit, buttoned the jacket and straightened his tie. 

Everyone was regaining their feet, trying to appear unphased or at least back in control, and covering their shame with cheers and loud clapping. 

Starsky walked toward the Littlefields, who had just gotten to the bottom of the stairway. They met him in a suddenly-vacant space in the middle of the large room. 

Mrs. Littlefield put her arms around Starsky and hugged him tightly. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough, Mr. Starsky.”

He endured the hug for a few moments before stepping back. “I’m glad I was here, Mrs. Littlefield.”

“Katherine, please.”

“Katherine.”

“The police will be here shortly.” She took his arm and led him toward the elevator. “They’ll need your statement. Until then though, I’m sure you could use a cup of coffee.”

“I sure could,” Starsky agreed.

“Excellent! We’ll go back up to our office. We have a contract to sign.” She looked at her husband, who nodded, enthusiastically. “And a pre-signing bonus to arrange.”

At the front edge of the crowd, Dr. Jackson caught Mrs. Littlefield’s eye. “When you’re done with him, Katherine, would you send him to my office, please?”

She turned her incandescent smile on him. “Of course, Daniel. 

*******

Starsky left Katherine and Ernest’s office with the security contract in his pocket and a significant ‘you-saved-the-day’ bonus check neither of them would let him refuse. He was also pretty sure they would listen to him when he made his proposals for tightened security and deeper background checks into prospective tour guides and facility personnel. Too many of their recent problems had stemmed from shoddy checking that was typical of many large security firms. They seemed to think that their corporate name was enough to keep unsavory characters from even applying for jobs. Starsky knew better.

He had given his statement to the police, corroborated by everyone who had witnessed the incident. The cops had promised that his weapon would be returned to him as soon as possible. Everything was routine, they had assured him. He wasn’t worried, he’d done what he’d had to do. 

The officers had known his name and, though they hadn’t known him in person before that day, they knew his reputation. That alone virtually guaranteed that he had killed the two gunmen because there had been no other choice. The control room technicians had been unequivocal in their vows that they would be dead, if not for Mr. Starsky. 

How the gunmen had gained access to the facility, much less made it down to the lowest level, was still being debated. It was an area that would be one of the first addressed by Starsky’s tightened procedures. This facility was his responsibility now and he was determined to keep it, and its people, safe.

Starsky made his way down to Dr. Jackson’s office and knocked on the door. Instead of the expected ‘Come in,’ the door was opened and Jackson ushered him inside, shaking his hand as he entered. “I don’t know if you remember me, Mr. Starsky. Sit down, please.”

“Of course I do, Dr. Jackson.” Starsky sat in the indicated chair.

“Daniel, please.”

“I’m Dave.”

Daniel moved behind his desk and sat down. “You probably saved my life, and a lot of others, earlier. I can’t tell you how grateful we all are.”

“I doubt that you’ve been trained to handle terrorists, Daniel. I have. It’s part of my job.” 

“It wasn’t at the time.” Daniel’s eyes twinkled. “I understand it is now though. Your company has been hired to help us control our security problems.”

“Not ‘control’,” Starsky stated, “we’re going to do our best to eliminate them.” He looked around the cluttered room, seeing books and statuary, figurines, idols, masks and totems. Artifacts of every description. Hutch would’ve loved this place, he thought.

“Are you a fan of history, Mr. St…. uh, Dave?”

“Not really,” Starsky replied, truthfully. “But I’ve been reading about this place ever since my company was asked to make a proposal. Can’t help but be fascinated by everything you say you’ve done. The places you say you’ve been.”

Daniel tented his fingers and Starsky was sorry he’d allowed Jackson to hear the skepticism in his words and voice. 

“You sound as if you don’t believe what you’ve read.”

“Not my job to believe or disbelieve.” Starsky slipped into his friendliest, good-natured persona. “It’s my job now to protect the project from disruptive influences.”

“Well said, Dave.” Daniel laughed, also good-naturedly. “But please allow me to tell you a story before I show you something I think you’ll find interesting.” He got up and went to the Mr. Coffee on top of a file cabinet. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Black.”

Daniel poured two cups, handed one to Starsky, took the other back to his desk and sat down again. “Have you seen any of the dramatizations we show in our theater?”

“Haven’t had time yet.” Starsky drank his coffee and nodded approval.

“Well, ‘Abydos’ is as much my story as anyone else’s,” Daniel continued. “You see, I met my wife on Abydos. And lost her there.”

Starsky didn’t know what to say to that so he said nothing. 

“And I’ve been looking for her ever since.” Daniel took a deep breath. “Every time we have a mission to a new planet, I ask the local inhabitants, if there are any, whether or not the Goa’uld have been there recently. If so, I ask if they’ve seen Sharé. So far, none of them have. But I keep hoping. And I’ll keep searching.” He took a few swallows of coffee, then looked at Starsky, determination in his face. “You see, Dave, she’s my soul mate.”

Starsky paled somewhat but covered it with another gulp of coffee. 

“I think you know what I mean,” Daniel went on, smoothly, “because I believe you had one, too.” Starsky met the penetrating gaze. “Your partner, Ken Hutchinson, was your soul mate.” Starsky bristled and Daniel put up his hand. “I don’t mean to imply a sexual connotation. From everything I’ve learned, you two were simply bonded, closer than brothers, half of each other’s whole.”

“What do you mean, ‘from everything you’ve learned’?” Starsky couldn’t keep the ice out of his tone. “You had me checked out?”

“I didn’t! Sony would have, of course, and believe me, you wouldn’t have the contract now if they’d found anything untoward.” He drank more coffee. “No, I had other sources.” Daniel put his cup down and got up. “And I think it’s time you saw them.” He gestured toward the door. “Will you come with me, please?”

Starsky got up and put his cup on the desk. Trusting his instincts, which were telling him Daniel was a Good Guy, he smiled lop-sidedly. “I have to warn you, Daniel, the cops took my primary weapon, but I have a back up. I’m still armed.”

Daniel laughed as he opened the door and ushered Starsky out into the hall, leading the way two doors down. At this door, he dug out keys and opened two separate dead bolt locks, punched numbers into the electronic keypad, opened the door and followed Starsky inside.

This room, to Starsky’s eye, was just as jam packed with items and objects as Daniel’s office but in a much more haphazard fashion. There was no order, no neatness at all, simply jumbles of artifacts without reason or purpose. Nothing looked to be of particular importance. Except the mirror in a corner of the room. This item drew attention to itself. It captivated. How can an inanimate object do that, he wondered. Starsky walked toward it, Daniel beside him. 

“This is what I wanted you to see,” said Daniel, softly.

Starsky noticed that the mirror didn’t show his reflection or anything in the room. It was a uniform, dull gray. 

Daniel moved to the side and sat on the edge of a junk-covered desk. “Just stand there for a minute, it needs to get attuned to you.”

“What do you mean ‘attuned’?” Starsky turned away from the object. “Is this thing _sentient_?”

“No, we don’t think so.” Daniel shrugged. “At least, not exactly. But it does sense a person who stands in front of it for a while and then shows that person different realities.”

Starsky stepped back a few paces and moved away from in front of the mirror. “You’ve lost me, Daniel. So before we go any farther, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” 

He moved to a chair, placed all the items littering the seat onto the floor, and sat down. 

Daniel got more comfortable on the edge of the desk. “I’m the one who discovered the mirror. On P3R-2… oh, never mind, you don’t care which planet it was.” He waved his hand as if to dispel the needless information. “Suffice it to say, I touched the surface and was transported to a different reality. One in which the Goa’uld were already attacking Earth, and destroying it. Every person in that reality was the same as the one I’d come from. Or, almost every one. I might have been dead in Egypt.” 

Daniel shuddered and shrugged that off. After a moment, when Starsky didn’t comment, he went on. “The situation was completely different though.” Jackson shifted gears. “You’ve met Colonel O’Neill and Captain Carter, haven’t you?” 

“I have.” Starsky offered nothing more.

“You know they’re both Air Force officers.” When Starsky nodded, he went on. “In the altered reality, Jack was a general, not a Colonel. Sam was a civilian scientist.” 

Starsky knew he was being asked if he understood the difference between the people he had met, and the ones in the alternate. He nodded again. Being former military, he did, indeed, understand.

“They were engaged to be married.” 

Okay, Starsky thought to himself, that would be a very different reality. The two people he had met had been close, he knew that, but couldn’t, officially at least, be in love. He drank more coffee, not yet convinced, but intrigued.

“Katherine was the head of the Stargate project but hadn’t found Ernest. Teal’c was still First Prime of Apophis.” Daniel stopped. “Have you heard that term before, Dave? ‘First Prime’?”

“Not that I remember. But I think I get the picture. He wasn’t part of SG-1.”

“No. In fact, quite the opposite. He was in charge of the Goa’uld ship that had landed on Cheyenne Mountain. Apophis was Teal’c’s boss, the Goa’uld bent on destroying Earth.” He took a deep breath, then continued. “Anyway, in that reality, a great many of the cities of Earth had already been devastated.”

Starsky waited patiently as Jackson shifted around on the edge of the desk.

“I had a terrible time,” Daniel finally continued, “convincing those people that I had come from a reality where the Goa’uld hadn’t attacked yet. If I could get back and warn my people we might be able to save Earth. My Earth. Theirs was already doomed.” 

Starsky watched him intently, doing his best to conceal his doubts. 

“Teal’c killed Jack,” Daniel went on, as if unaware of Starsky’s skepticism, “in retaliation for the nuke he had sent to Chulak, destroying all of Teal’c’s family.” Daniel’s eyes lost focus as Starsky watched him ‘remember.’ “The Goa’uld were inside the facility, killing everyone. Somehow, during all that, I managed to convince Katherine, Sam, and Colonel Hammond that I still had a chance to save my Earth, if they would send me back to Two Three Three. I could gate home from there and warn my people.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe they did it, but they used their final opportunity to dial out. And I got to come home.” 

He looked down at his hands and took several deep breaths. “When the Goa’uld did show up, we were ready for them. That was the ‘fireworks in the sky’ night. The one Senator Kinsey used to demonstrate to the world how evil the Stargate was.”

“But the world didn’t buy it, right?” Starsky kept his voice neutral, not ready to believe anything yet. 

“Right.” Daniel moved items off another chair and sat down. “We brought the mirror back from Two Three Three, where the Ancients had stored all the objects and items they had found on various planets. The collected pieces were all jumbled together with the things they themselves had invented, but weren’t using at the time they… went away.”

“What do you mean ‘went away’?” Starsky was really getting confused.

“I wish I knew.” Daniel sounded perplexed, himself. “You see, all we know about the Ancients is what the Asgard have told us, which isn’t much. And the Asgard is a species that’s older than the proverbial hills. If they don’t know who the Ancients were, nobody does. But they were the ones who built the Stargates and invented many of the items and objects in this room. Including the mirror.”

Standing up, Daniel walked toward the mirror, off to the side. “I’ve been studying it for quite a while now,” he said, sounding like a professor. “All I know is that it attunes itself to the person in front of it then shows alternate realities. And that, if we want to, we can move back and forth between those realities by touching the surface of the mirror.” 

He motioned Starsky to join him and, somewhat reluctantly, Starsky did. Daniel pushed him gently until he was fully in front of the mirror again.

“I still don’t know what you mean by ‘alternate realities,’ Daniel.”

“You’ll see. Give it a minute more. When it happened to me the first time, I was handling a device and Sam thinks that was what activated the mirror.” Daniel moved his hands, looking down at them as if he were manipulating the said device. “As it’s become used to us…” Daniel looked up again, “we haven’t needed that.” He hunched his shoulders a little as he went on. “Good thing, too, because it was destroyed when Sam surrendered to the Goa’uld in that reality, killed herself and all of them.”

Starsky stood patiently, looking back and forth from Daniel to the mirror, and its still flat, uninterrupted gray surface. Nothing else, nothing more, noth -- Wait. Three people walked into the mirror, talking to each other. Starsky went deathly pale. When his legs wobbled, Daniel was there to shove a chair behind his knees.

“Hutch,” Starsky breathed. He sat down.

“You and me, and your partner.” Daniel’s voice was full of understanding. He pulled a second chair up near Starsky’s but a little to the side, 

“But, how…?”

“Wait.” 

As Starsky held his breath, the image changed. The three people were the same but the clothes were different; all wore their hair longer and they might have been a little older. Another shift produced a different image of the three, then, yet another. In this one, Hutch approached the mirror and stared into it as if he could see through it.

Starsky sat, mesmerized for a moment before tearing his eyes away from the sight of his partner. He got up and bolted out of the room. 

*******

Starsky leaned against the wall across from the Mirror Room, trying to come to terms with what he had seen.

Daniel came out and crossed to him. “It’s a shock, I know, and I’m sorry. But it was the only way you’d believe me.”

“What?” Starsky fairly shouted. “Believe _what_ , Daniel?” 

He pushed off the wall and began to pace back and forth, a few steps in each direction, glaring at Daniel every time he passed. “What are you trying to tell me? What do you want me to believe? That my partner is alive in some alternate reality? In a bunch of different realities, even? That we’re still together in some of them? That he didn’t _die_?” He stopped in front of Daniel. “Is that what you want me to believe? That Hutch is _alive_? Somewhere?”

“I know he is, Dave,” said Daniel, softly. “I’ve talked to him.”

*******

Back in Daniel’s office, Starsky continued to pace. “Are you saying one of us could walk into the other’s reality and… what? Live there? Go on as if nothing had happened?”

Daniel sat behind his desk, calmly watching Starsky pace, and Starsky found it unnerving. 

“If that’s what you decided to do,” Daniel replied. “Yes.”

Starsky stopped in front of the desk. “How?” he asked, desperately.

Daniel stood, picked a medallion up off the desk and hung it around his neck. “Katherine loaned this to me this morning. She hopes it will bring us all a little luck.”

“Luck?”

“I asked Ken to come to my office, in his reality, today.” Daniel glanced at his watch. “We’re later than I thought we’d be but I’m pretty sure he’ll have waited.” He moved around the desk and perched on the edge. “What I propose, is that you and I go back to the mirror room here. I’ll ask you to stand to the side while I wait for it to show me the room in that reality. I have an object in a specific place so that I can be sure it’s the correct room. I’ll go through and get Ken from my office. Then I’ll come back here. If, at that time, you still want to do this, we’ll wait for his image to appear, wearing his letterman’s jacket…. He said you’d recognize it.”

Starsky had to swallow before he could get the words out. “Oh, yeah.”

Daniel nodded. “Then you touch the mirror’s surface.”

“Why not just bring him back with you?” 

Daniel laughed, heartily. “He asked me the same thing. I told him I thought you two might like some privacy, since you haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“You’re right.” Starsky shrugged and smiled. “But I have to ask you something, Daniel. Why are you doing all this? What do you get out of it?”

“This might sound strange, Dave, but I miss my wife so much, I’d like to see two people who love each other, get back together.”

Starsky discovered he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to have Daniel know he loved Hutch. “Not strange at all. And, even if it doesn’t work, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So, are you ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Starsky could not have named all the different emotions he was feeling as he and Daniel exited the office and went to the mirror room. The most important one, of course, was hope.

Daniel had Starsky stand to the side. “After I’ve gone, please try to wait patiently. It shouldn’t take me more than ten or fifteen minutes, maybe less. When I get back, if you’re ready, we’ll call up his image and you go through.”

“Then what?” Starsky hated the tremor in his voice.

“Then you talk. If you decide you want to stay together, you’ll need to choose where. There, or here? If you want to stay there, do nothing. Go on with your lives.” Daniel waited for Starsky to digest the information. “I’ll wait here for two hours. If you haven’t come back by that time, I’ll figure you decided to stay there. If, on the other hand, you want to come back, stand together in front of the mirror and concentrate on me in this room. Wait until the image of me wearing this medallion cycles around.” He held the piece so that Starsky could take a close look. It was an embossed representation of the Eye of Ra.

“Once you see me,” said Daniel, “touch the mirror’s surface together. Make sure you’re in contact with each other or one of you could be lost and we might never find you.”

“But no pressure.” Starsky managed a strangled laugh.

“Absolutely none!”

Starsky stepped off to the side while Daniel concentrated on the mirror. After a few image shifts, a mirror room appeared and it must have been the correct one because Daniel touched the surface and disappeared.

Never having seen such a thing before, Starsky sat down heavily in a chair and tried to get his roiling thoughts and emotions under control. It had already been a dizzying day, what with Heather, the gate room incident where he had killed two men, being awarded the contract, with a sizeable bonus, then seeing Hutch’s image for the first time in almost five years, and being told that his partner was alive in an alternate reality, that they might be able to get back together, either in Hutch’s reality, or this one…. Too many things to think about. 

Almost before he was aware that any time had passed, Daniel reappeared, his back to Starsky, his right hand still outstretched. Turning around, he beckoned for Starsky to join him. 

Starsky got up and walked forward. Daniel turned with him and both faced the mirror; Starsky was concentrating for all he was worth. The image of Hutch wearing the familiar jacket appeared immediately. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Starsky reached out.

 

PART THREE

Even though Hutch had thought he was prepared, the sight of Starsky materializing in front of the mirror took his breath away. His partner had his back to him, his shoulders slightly hunched, his left hand extended.

Hutch found himself rooted to the floor, staring at the man he had known he’d never see again. Starsky turned slowly and locked eyes with him, looking as if he, too, was having difficulty believing what had happened. 

Shaking off his incredulity, Hutch took a step forward. Starsky, having moved at the same moment, was suddenly within reach. Hutch enfolded his dead partner. And began to cry. 

The body Hutch held, as fiercely as he’d ever clutched anything, shuddered. He could feel as well as hear the shallow breaths. The familiar arms tightened around him. After a suspended length of time, he reined in his stampeding emotions, knowing they’d easily get the better of him if he didn’t. He and the man in his arms had decisions to make.

Not willing to release his hold on this tangible spirit yet though, Hutch brushed his face against the thick grey-brown curls. Taking a firm grip on his feelings, he tried to think, as clearly as possible.

The sturdy figure fit his embrace the same as it always had. The arms around him felt absolutely right, the aftershave and shampoo were scents he could never forget. The man had looked like his partner, a little older, but definitely David Starsky. The eyes were the exact intense midnight blue he knew as well as he knew the color of his own. The hair was a little grayer but mostly the familiar curly dark brown. Everything was the same. Except the suit. 

Hutch broke the embrace and stepped back, looking this Starsky up and down, while wiping his face quickly with one hand. “What’s with the suit, Starsk?” 

“I haven’t seen you in five years,” Starsky quipped, stepping back a pace and dashing tears from his cheeks and eyes, too. “You died in my arms, and you’re asking me about my _suit_?”

“Yeah.” Hutch stepped back another half-stride. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re real, or some figment of my imagination. But even in my imagination, and when I saw you in the mirror, you were never wearing anything like that!”

“What’s _wrong_ with it?” Starsky was clearly beginning to get angry.

“Nothing!” Hutch put up his hands, palms outward. “It looks like it was tailored for you. It’s beautiful in fact. But slacks and sport coats were all you ever wanted to wear.”

Starsky’s sudden ire evaporated and he appeared, almost, to be embarrassed. “Huggy picked it out. He said --”

“Huggy’s _alive_?” Hutch leaped forward and grabbed Starsky’s shoulders.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Then we’re definitely going to your reality.” 

Starsky’s arms snaked around him. “I take it he’s dead here?”

Hutch only nodded, suddenly unable to cope with all the emotions he was feeling. “God, Starsk…” he swallowed hard, “Daniel said he could do this but I guess I didn’t believe him.”

“Neither did I.”

Reluctantly, Hutch broke the embrace and nodded at the mirror. “How do we get back to your place?”

“What about people here? Won’t they worry about what happened to you?”

“Nope. I’ve had a week to prepare. I told Cal --”

“Cal _Dobey_?” 

“Yeah. He’s my Chief of Operations.”

“Mine, too!”

“Great minds,” Hutch said, pleased somehow. “Anyway, when I realized this was a possibility, I had him read the mission reports. He understood completely. All the paperwork’s ready to be filed, if I don’t come back. He said he’d take care of the company and make us proud.”

Starsky nodded. “I have no doubt.”

“I think…” Hutch suddenly realized the downside, “he hoped you’d decide to stay here. He’s missed you, too.”

“Too bad only one of him can get his friend back.”

“Yeah. Well, let’s --”

“Uh,” Starsky interrupted, gently, “have you… did you… is there…?”

“Spit it out, Starsk.” Hutch ran a hand down his partner’s tense arm.

“Do you have someone here?” 

“You mean, like a wife?” Hutch couldn’t hide a small smile.

“Yeah. Or someone you want to take with you?” 

Hutch shook his head and put his arm around Starsky’s shoulders. “No. There’s no one here.”

“What about your guitar? I didn’t think you’d want to leave that behind. If you’ve had a week, why didn’t you bring it? ”

Hutch dropped his arm off Starsky’s shoulders and turned away. He could feel his partner waiting patiently. When his voice was under firm control, he turned back. “I sold it.” 

Starsky’s jaw dropped. 

Hutch looked in his partner’s disbelieving eyes before turning away again. “I couldn’t play it any more. It hurt too much. Every time I tried, I ended up drunk and crying.” Hutch took a step, trying to distance himself from the memory but it didn’t work. “One night… about six months after you died, I was so drunk, and hurt so badly from missing you, I almost pulled a KISS on-stage frenzy.”

Without conscious thought, Hutch raised his hands, holding the invisible instrument. “I actually had the neck in my fists, ready to smash the thing against the coffee table when I stopped. I think I stood there for a long time before the rational part of my mind realized it was a really good guitar.” He lowered his hands. “It deserved to be played by someone who would appreciate it…. I sold it.”

His partner’s arms slipped around him and Hutch turned within the circle, burying his face in the curly hair. 

Starsky’s words were muffled, but sounded happy. “Well, I’ve still got the one you had in my reality.”

“Then let’s go.”

Starsky stepped back and smiled, self-consciously. “Your plants are doin’ okay. I don’t take care of them the way you did, but… they’re doin’ okay.”

That quiet statement brought tears to Hutch’s eyes again and he saw similar moisture in his partner’s. Neither made an effort to banish them. Hutch looked toward the mirror and Starsky nodded. 

Hutch kept his left arm tightly around his best friend’s shoulders. Starsky’s right arm was firmly around his. Together, as Daniel had said, they faced the mirror, waiting for it to do what the archivist had promised. It cycled through several images, coming at last to one of Jackson wearing a distinctive medallion. Hutch looked the question at Starsky, who nodded. He reached with his right hand, Starsky with his left.

*******

Daniel had been staring at the mirror so he saw the partners appear, their backs to him, their arms around each other’s shoulders. As they turned, fluidly, Daniel remembered the first couple of times he, Jack, and Sam had traveled together. They’d stumbled around after the transport, getting turned away from the mirror, dropping their hands so that they could move separately.

Here were two men who hadn’t seen each other in years, having no such difficulty. Ken pivoted on his right heel, bringing Dave around in what could have been a long-practiced dance move. Dave used only two smooth steps to complete the half circle. Daniel noticed unshed tears swimming in their eyes, and he reveled in the happiness on their faces. 

Before he could think of something pithy to say though, they stepped forward, their free arms gathering him in a group hug. Hesitating only a moment, Daniel hugged them back. 

When they broke apart, Daniel looked at each of them. “Well! I’d guess neither of you has had anything to eat today and there’s a pretty darn good restaurant on the first level. Dinner’s on me!”

“Dr. Jackson,” Ken put up a hand, his voice stern. “You will never pay for anything when you’re in our company. Right, Starsk?”

“You heard the man, Daniel,” Dave replied.

“Okay. I know when I’m outnumbered.” Daniel relented happily. 

He led the way out of the room, locking the dead bolts behind them. They walked to the stairwell where they climbed one flight to the main level, and went on to the trendy restaurant.

Before they got to the entrance, Daniel felt Ken’s hand on his arm and stopped, in response to the restraint. Dave stopped, too, and came back to them, a questioning look on his face. Ken appeared uncertain.

“I’m not exactly dressed for a fancy restaurant, Daniel.” Ken glanced down at the collegiate jacket he wore.

“Don’t worry,” Daniel said, smiling. “The only requirement here is a tie. And you’re wearing one of those. Your jacket’s fine.”

“Okay.” Ken seemed satisfied. “I wasn’t sure.” 

“‘Sides, partner,” Dave added, cheerfully, “if they turn you away, ‘cause of your jacket, we’ll take Daniel to this great little Mexican place I know about.” 

Daniel thought Ken almost shuddered. When Dave practically skipped on ahead, he and Ken joined him.

“Good evening, Dr. Jackson.” The hostess greeted them with a lovely smile. 

“Good evening, Pamela. Is there room for us in the enclosure?”

“Of course, sir.”

She led the way through the room full of well-dressed diners to a partition that screened a small area. No one else was there. She seated them at the nearest table, handing each a menu. Probably against all rules, and to Daniel’s great surprise, she leaned down and kissed Dave’s cheek. “Please forgive me, Mr. Starsky, but I had to do that. We’re all so grateful to you.”

Dave looked as if he wanted to melt through the floor. Daniel grinned, enjoying the unflappable Dave Starsky’s embarrassment. Across the table, Ken, of course, was without a clue. 

Pamela, returning to hostess mode, stepped back. “Brandon will be your waiter tonight, but I can take your drink order.”

Daniel didn’t know what to suggest, so he waited on the others. Ken shrugged his shoulders in his partner’s direction. “Beer?” 

“Naw, this is a celebration, Hutch.” 

“Champagne?” 

“Terrific!”

Pamela spun on her high heel as Daniel saw Ken look seriously at Dave. 

“What did I miss, partner?”

“It was nothin’, Hutch.” Dave didn’t meet Ken’s eyes.

Daniel decided he wasn’t going to put up with Dave’s ‘aw, shucks’ routine and shook his head. “It’s why we were so much later than I thought we’d be, Ken. Dave will have to fill in the details but I can tell you this, your partner saved a whole bunch of people’s lives this morning, including mine. He also kept us from being shut down.”

Ken cocked an eyebrow at Dave again but was ignored. Daniel turned to the dark haired half of the duo. “After you’ve told Ken about your incident with the tour guide, Dave, get him to tell you about his through-the-gate rescue mission with Teal’c last week.”

Dave stared, open-mouthed, at Ken. “You’ve actually been _off-world_?”

Daniel almost laughed as Ken was the one who shrugged this time. “Only to Chulak.”

“‘Only to _Chulak’_?” Dave nearly sputtered. “You say that as if it was no big deal, Hutch, but it --”

At that moment, the wine steward appeared, with a bus boy carrying an ice bucket, in tow. After the bucket had been set in its stand next to the table, the steward handed an appropriate glass to each of the men, opened the bottle, with no wasteful spillage, and filled the three glasses. Placing the bottle in the bucket, he took his leave. 

Daniel picked up his glass, as did the partners, and they all clinked lightly in the center of the table. 

Ken came up with what, to Daniel, was the perfect toast, “To dreams come true.”

Daniel suspected that Ken hoped he was off the hook, and wouldn’t have to tell his story until later, but his partner hadn’t forgotten. As Daniel smiled over his glass of bubbly, Dave turned his amazed look back to Ken. 

“You’ve really been off-world, Hutch?” Dave’s disbelief was unmistakable. “It wasn’t just smoke and mirrors?” 

“I’d have thought, after this afternoon, Starsk, that you’d be more inclined to believe in at least the ‘mirrors’ part.”

Daniel had met these two in various realities and never tired of listening to their banter. So he simply watched the interplay; Ken with a slight smirk on his face, and Dave appearing truly stunned. To his credit though, it only took Dave a moment to realize the truth of the situation. Daniel saw acceptance appear on the expressive face. ‘Smoke and mirrors’ would never mean the same to him again. 

At that moment, Katherine and Ernest came around the partition. 

Daniel stood up immediately, as did the partners. Daniel took the medallion off and hung it around Katherine’s neck. He kissed her cheek. “It was good luck, indeed, Katherine. Thank you.”

She beamed at him, then turned to the pair. “Please forgive us, gentlemen, but Ernest and I wanted to be among the first to welcome you, Mr. Hutchinson. We’ve been looking forward to this for what seems like a very long time.”

Daniel saw Ken bow slightly, and hid a smile. Funny how many people felt like doing that when in her presence. 

“I’m very happy to be here, Mrs. Littlefield.”

She extended her hand. “Katherine, please.”

He took it. “Katherine.”

She turned to include Dave in her smile. “If you both have some time in the next few days we hope you’ll come back. Ernest and I have many things we’d like to talk about with you.”

Ken looked at his partner, who grinned and nodded, enthusiastically. “We’ll make the time, Katherine,” Ken said.

She beamed, took her husband’s arm and began to turn away, but he gently stopped her and addressed the partners. “Don’t even think of trying to pay for this meal. The bonus we forced on Dave wasn’t nearly enough.” With that, he and Katherine turned and walked away. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel noticed Ken lean toward his partner and whisper, “Bonus?”

Dave smiled the lop-sided grin Daniel had become familiar with and he knew another discussion would take place, sometime. They all sat back down. Before anything more could be said, Brandon showed up to take their orders.

*******

Later, the remains of a sumptuous meal had been cleared away. The first champagne bottle was upside down in the bucket. A second upright bottle, next to it, showed serious signs of depletion. 

Starsky was feeling the most incredible buzz he’d ever known. Not only from the champagne either. Hutch was alive! Hutch was here! And Starsky knew the hollow part of his soul had been filled. 

Daniel folded his napkin and stare at him, then Hutch. “I can’t thank you enough, for allowing me to prove this was possible. It has made all the theorizing, arguing, traveling, and worrying well worth it.”

“Can you believe this guy, Hutch? He’s thankin’ us!” Starsky got up, only a little unsteadily, pulled Daniel to his feet. “I’m kinda tipsy so I can get away with this.” He put his arms around their new friend and hugged him. “Hutch and I will never be able to repay you, Daniel, so just know this, we love ya!”

When Starsky broke the hug and stepped back, Hutch stood up and put his hand out to clasp Daniel’s. 

“If there is ever, _ever_ anything we can do to help you, Daniel,” Hutch said, with undiluted sincerity, “please don’t hesitate to ask.”

It took a moment for Daniel to find his voice. “I’ll remember that, guys. For now though, I think I’d just like to go soak my head.” He turned to leave but then turned back. “If you have time, after you’ve talked to Katherine and Ernest, stop by, okay?”

“We will” and “Count on it” overlapped as Daniel made his unsteady way around the partition, passing Brandon as he was bringing coffee. 

Starsky gestured toward Daniel’s retreating figure. “Will he be all right?”

Brandon looked around. “Dr. Jackson? Oh, he’ll be fine. He doesn’t have to drive anywhere. He has a suite on Seven he uses when he’s not at the mountain or mirror traveling.”

Starsky and Hutch sat back down, reassured, as Brandon poured their coffees. Starsky took a swallow, his eyes lighting up. He grabbed Brandon’s sleeve. “Bring the pot, will you, please, Brandon? My partner and I have a lot to talk about.”

Starsky stared at the ghost he’d been having one-way conversations with for five years. When Hutch’s eyes lifted to look back at him, Starsky held the gaze. 

Brandon returned a minute later with a fresh full pot of coffee. He left again, returning moments later with a hot plate which he plugged into an outlet under the table. He put the pot on it. “Dessert, gentlemen?” 

Starsky shook his head, never breaking eye contact with his partner. Hutch did the same. 

“I’ll leave you to your discussion then.” Brandon turned and left. 

After Brandon had gone, Starsky picked up his cup and drank. A moment later, feeling his partner’s gaze again, he looked into the sky-blues he had missed so terribly. 

“I died in your arms?” Hutch asked, softly.

Starsky hadn’t been prepared for that question and the sudden constriction in his throat made it difficult to speak. He had to look away. “Yep.” Instead of the sarcasm he thought Hutch might come back with, there was only silence. Finally, he glanced back at his partner and there was nothing in the expression except compassion. 

“We’re even then.” Hutch’s voice was soothing. ‘Cause you died in mine.”

Starsky didn’t know what to say for a moment. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he asked, in an attempt to lighten things a little. “Flip a coin?” 

“Nope. You mentioned it first.”

“Aw, gee, Hutch, you really want to talk about this now? I mean, it’s been almost five years, but it feels like yesterday.”

“It’s only me here, Starsk…. What happened?”

Starsky had spent virtually every minute since that night trying to forget, but that had never been possible. He drank most of his cup of coffee as he tried to get his thoughts in order. He refilled his own cup as well as Hutch’s then put the pot back on the hot plate. He looked up into the waiting patience of his best friend’s eyes. “Is there a Peter Whitelaw in your reality?” 

Hutch nodded. 

“Good. I’m glad. Well…” Starsky had to swallow before he could begin, “in this one, Peter decided it was time to make a run for the U.S. Senate. He got straights, as well as the whole gay community, on his side and won goin’ away. We had been his security throughout the campaign and it had been ugly. We had uncovered two assassination plots and one that got to the attempt stage. No one was injured but a lot of people went to jail.”

He drank more coffee and was grateful that Hutch wasn’t asking questions. The silent support he felt was unconditional and unquestioning. 

“The Hotel Riva donated their ballroom for the victory party,” Starsky went on. “We had wanted to interview the entire staff, check all entry and exit points, the usual. The hotel’s Chief of Security, a toad named, Roderick, nixed that idea though. He said his staff was totally competent and he had complete confidence in them. He refused cooperation. Peter wasn’t happy but the facility was being donated and he didn’t feel like he could make demands. We weren’t happy either but there wasn’t anything we could do about it. We checked everything we could. As it turned out, it wasn’t enough.”

Hutch quietly refilled his cup. 

“Roderick was a closet bigot and homophobe, and had hated Peter ever since he had run for City Council. We didn’t find any of this out until later, of course, he made sure of that. So the celebration went on as planned. But Roderick had put together a three-man assassination team.”

Starsky had to stop again, for a gulp of coffee and several deep breaths; this was turning out to be more difficult than he could have imagined. “The main shooter,” he finally went on, “dressed as a waiter, pushed a room service cart into the ballroom near the end of the evening, and stationed it and himself next to the main doors, where people would pass him on their way out. The cart was covered with a tablecloth and Whitelaw bumper stickers, buttons, decals, balloons, and other free stuff that people could take with them.”

The edges of Starsky’s vision began to darken as he stared at his cup and relived the moments. “A little after midnight, Peter said he was tired, it was time to leave. We escorted him toward the doors, happy supporters crowding around offering last minute congratulations. I was in front of him, you were behind.”

Starsky had never been as grateful for Hutch’s patience as he was at that moment. He knew that if his partner interrupted him now, he’d never get started again. 

“As we passed the waiter, you must have sensed something because I heard you yell at Peter to get down. Witnesses said you drew your weapon at the same time the assassin pulled an automatic rifle out from under the cloth that had covered the bottom shelf of the cart. You must have known that rifle would have killed indiscriminately if you had knocked it aside. It’s bullets could have gone through ceilings, walls, even floors. So you grabbed the barrel and held the muzzle against yourself as he pulled the trigger, which was set on full auto. You had your gun aimed at his forehead though, and put a bullet through his brain as he shot you.”

Even though he couldn’t look up, Starsky felt, and saw, at the side of his tunnel vision, the gentle hand on his arm, silently encouraging and reinforcing, making it possible to go on. 

“I threw Peter to the floor and fell on top of him, scanning the hallway for more trouble. There were two more waiters with guns. I killed them.” The grip on his arm tightened. “Our own guys were converging by that time. I made sure Peter was okay and that no one else seemed to be injured. Then I ran back into the ballroom. You were still holding the rifle barrel in your hand.” Starsky squeezed his eyes shut but the image burned through. “Later, the M.E. told me the heat had fused it to your palm.”

Starsky took a deep breath and, at last, looked up at Hutch. “You were smiling. It wasn’t a pain grimace, I remember what those look like. It was a smile. I gathered you in my arms and begged you not to leave me. But I knew there was nothing I, or anybody else could have done. The bullets that hadn’t been caught by your vest had torn you apart. You were smiling though.”

“Did I say anything?” 

“I couldn’t hear you because of the chaos around us.” Starsky knew were sliding down his cheeks and he didn’t try to stop them. “But I could read your lips…. You said, ‘I love you’.” 

Starsky closed his eyes again for a moment and felt Hutch wipe the tears from his face.

“Good.”

Starsky’s eyes flew open and he stared, unsure, into the brilliant blue ones he’d just ‘seen’ close for the last time. “Why, Hutch? We’d loved each other since the Academy. We didn’t need to say the words out loud.”

“Maybe not, Starsk, but I hope it was good to hear them. At least in your mind.”

Starsky scrubbed the back of his hand across his face and smiled into the eyes that knew him so well. “Yeah. It was good…. It was the only thing that kept me going.”

*******

Starsky filled their cups again, and both took swallows. As Hutch opened his mouth to comment on Starsky’s vivid recitation, he was stopped by a quiet, “Your turn.”

Hutch swallowed hard, realizing he wasn’t ready. After listening to Starsky relate his own harrowing death, he was now faced with reliving his partner’s. But his friend had overcome his demons and told the story and he could do no less. He took several deep breaths, trying to find a place to start. 

“There was a summit of oil-producing countries in Los Angeles,” Hutch began. “Representatives from every nation that sucked petroleum out of the ground were there. One, a sultan or something, from one of the Middle-East places, came with his entourage, like he was a rock star or politician. He had a flock of lawyers, assistants, sycophants, shills, and a gaggle of ladies.”

“Not our client, I hope.”

“God, no! He had four bodyguards who looked like sumo wrestlers as his security detail.”

“Who was our client?”

“A sweet little guy from Venezuela. His country wasn’t one of The Big Boys but he was there to try and make sure his people’s interests didn’t get trampled in the negotiations. He was terrified though. He’d heard rumors that some anti-oil group planned violent demonstrations. He insisted we hire a bullet-proof limo for getting him back and forth from his hotel to the convention center.”

Starsky waited as patiently as Hutch had done and Hutch was grateful.

“For three days we did nothing except ferry Mr. Vasquez back and forth. On the last day, information was leaked that the fat cat sultan had never meant to negotiate in good faith.” Hutch’s remembered anger seeped through his tight control. “He had no intention of signing any agreement that didn’t give his country full power over oil production, world wide. The summit had been a sham from the beginning.”

Hutch raised his hands in the universal gesture of futility. “All the representatives stormed out of the convention center in the proverbial huff. The sultan looked so pleased with himself as he left the building, we both felt like we needed a bath. That’s when things went bad.”

Hutch picked up his cup before realizing it was empty. Starsky refilled it for him. He nodded his thanks and drank. Please, Starsky, he thought, don’t say anything, or I won’t be able to get through this. 

“We had been some of the first ones out, with Mr. Vasquez,” Hutch continued, grateful that his partner was ‘listening.’ “We were nearly at the limo when we heard at least a dozen shots almost simultaneously. We spun around and saw the four body guards shooting at everyone and everything. The sultan, himself, was already down, as were at least half a dozen others. You hollered at me to take care of our client, drew your weapon and sprinted back toward the melee. I scooped our guy up off the sidewalk, stuffed him into the limo, and ran back.”

Hutch paused, reliving the scene. “You had taken out two of them and had a third on the ground, each of your gun hands grasping the other’s. The fourth gunman stuck the muzzle of his automatic in your side and pulled the trigger. I killed him as he shot you. The third guy threw your body off himself and pointed his weapon at me. I killed him, too.”

Hutch looked at Starsky as the tears began to flow. As they had flowed for so many days afterward, and so often since then. He looked into the deep blue eyes of his partner and relived their last flicker of life. “You died in my arms, Starsk.”

“Did I say anything?” Starsky’s thumbs wiped away Hutch’s tears.

Hutch had to swallow twice before he could get the words out. “‘See ya’.”

Instead of the wisecrack Hutch expected, Starsky grinned. “Leave it t’ me t’ be glib.” He drank more coffee then stared at Hutch again, a look of sheer wonder suffusing his face. “But I was right, you know. ‘Cause I’m not dead. And neither are you.” He cocked his head as if to say ‘argue with that one, pal.’ 

Hutch had to laugh and, as the laugh trickled away, he and Starsky shared a very long look. After what Hutch felt like could have been a minute or a year, Starsky suddenly stood up. 

“I gotta hit the head.” Starsky looked around and, spotting the men’s room sign, started toward it. After a step he stopped, turned, and looked back. “You won’t leave while I’m gone, will ya, Hutch? I mean… I don’t think I could make it if I lost you again.”

“I won’t leave, Starsk. I promise.”

“Okay!” Starsky brightened again. “Good! And, hey, I think we should order dessert after all. I’m still hungry!” 

Hutch watched his best friend swagger -- there was really no other word for that singular walk -- through the room. His smile turned to a grin. Of all the dreams and daydreams he’d had over the past week, nothing had prepared him for the actuality of having Starsky back in his life. We owe you so much, Daniel, he thought. I really hope there’s some way we can help you find Sharé.

As he looked across the room, he wondered what the remaining diners would think if they knew he was from a different reality. And, pondering that imponderable, his innate logical thought processes began to make their way through the champagne haze. What are we going to tell the Social Security Administration when we try to get my number reinstated? And what about the insurance company that undoubtedly paid off on my death? We’ll probably have to reimburse them, with interest. How do I explain to the IRS why I haven’t filed a tax return for five years? ‘Gee, guys, I’ve been a little dead’? He almost started laughing, knowing they were problems he and Starsky would have to address, but too happy to worry about them right then. 

It was at that very moment that he noticed a strikingly lovely redhead walking toward him. She seemed to know him but he was pretty sure he’d never seen her before in his life. 

He got up as she approached, holding out her hand. His own automatically took it. She used their clasped hands to draw herself close to him so that she could kiss his cheek. Then she stood there for a few moments as he inhaled her scent. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It went straight to his head.

*******

Starsky came back from the men’s room to find Heather and his partner standing next to the table, a knowing smile on her face, a stunned expression on Hutch’s. She stepped back and sat down in the chair Starsky held for her. After another moment, Hutch, appearing dazed, sat down, too. 

Starsky took his own chair, turning a bright smile on his best friend. “I see you’ve met the enchanting Heather.”

“Uh… yeah, I, uh… I guess I have,” Hutch stammered.

“We hope we are not intruding, Dave,” Heather purred, “but we saw Ken sitting here and could not resist coming over. Everyone in the facility is talking about you two. First, your heroic save of all those people this morning, Dave, then Ken’s arrival this afternoon. This place may never be the same.”

“How did you know Hutch was here?” Starsky asked, confused. “And, what do you mean ‘we’?”

Her eyes blazed and she leaned across the table, taking Starsky’s left hand in her right, Hutch’s right hand in her left, her thumbs rubbing seductively across their knuckles. Her dazzling smile engulfed each of them. “We are aware of everything that happens here, do you not know that yet? Daniel thought he was being so very clever, so careful and cautious, so secretive, but he has never been able to hide anything from us. Not from the beginning.”

Starsky had never felt anything like the feelings flooding through him. He was enthralled, captivated by this woman. But why? He barely knew her. Had only met her that morning. How was she doing this to him? The name, Kira, flashed across his mind, but he banished it instantly. This was nothing like that. Heather would be his! He’d see to that. 

Wait! Why did he feel that way? He had promised himself, and ghost-Hutch, exactly the opposite, only this morning. He was attracted to Heather, yes, but this possessiveness was absolutely wrong! Starsky knew it had to be something the woman was doing to him but he seemed unable, and even unwilling, to fight against it. Or do anything about it. 

*******

Hutch knew something was seriously wrong but he couldn’t figure out what. This woman he had never seen before had, somehow, ensnared his mind, just as she had captured his hand. She was talking and smiling at both him and Starsky but Hutch felt as if her words and smile were only for him. Why did he feel that way though? What had she done to him? He had known this narcotic feeling before, as if he could no longer think for himself, and had sincerely hoped never to experience it again. She had, somehow, insinuated herself into his being and he was powerless to resist her. 

Until a hand descended firmly onto Heather’s shoulder, gripping tightly. The redhead flinched, pulling her hands away from his and Starsky’s. 

Hutch’s full consciousness came back to him and he surged to his feet, his chair going over backward with a crash. Without hesitation, he drew his weapon and pointed it between the bright green eyes. “You’re Hathor!”

Out of the corner of his eye, in the main part of the dining room, Hutch could see that people were turning around, exclaiming and pointing toward him and the others around his table. Some were getting up and running for the entrance, others sitting as if frozen.

The uniformed Air Force Captain to whom the hand on Hathor’s shoulder belonged, laughed merrily. She looked down at the woman in the chair. “Loosing your touch, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Hutch couldn’t believe what he saw happen right before his eyes in the next moment. The Goa’uld goddess vanished from where she had been sitting, reappearing, almost instantaneously, behind the Captain. A dagger was now held to the officer’s throat. 

“You should not have interfered, Captain Carter,” the redhead hissed. “Since you have, however, we shall thoroughly enjoy our revenge.” She began, very slowly, to cut the captain’s throat. 

When the muzzle of a gun was jammed into her temple, she stopped.

*******

As soon as the hand fell on Heather’s shoulder and his own hand had been released, Starsky’s world slammed back into focus. He saw Hutch jump up, drawing his gun, and knew he had to back his partner. With the attentions of the three others at the table on Hutch, Starsky drew his spare weapon from his ankle holster. He ghosted to his feet and moved silently behind the redhead, who was beginning to slice into the officer’s neck. Captain Carter didn’t deserve to die like that, he thought. He stepped behind Heather, or Hathor, or whatever her name was, and shoved the barrel of his weapon into her left temple. “Freeze, lady.”

Hutch leaped forward and grabbed the dagger out of Hathor’s hand. 

Captain Carter picked up a napkin and held it to her throat as she sat down shakily.

Brandon appeared around the partition. “Security and the police have been called, gentlemen. And ladies. Captain Carter, do you need an ambulance?”

Carter smiled up at him and her hand, as she waved a negative, shook only a little. “It’s not that serious, Brandon. I’m sure the infirmary here can handle it. Thanks, though.”

Hutch pushed a chair over and Starsky shoved it behind Hathor’s knees, a heavy hand on her shoulder forcing her to sit. His and Hutch’s guns never wavered as Brandon went to the windows and appropriated the velvet draperies’ tiebacks. It wasn’t until he had securely tied the glaring Hathor’s wrists to the arms of her chair, that Starsky drew his chair over next to hers and sat down, his gun resting on his knees, pointed at her. Hutch duplicated his moves so that she was bracketed closely. The Goa’uld’s look, as she fixed her hatred on her captors, could have disintegrated bullet proof glass.

Carter carefully removed the napkin at her throat and nodded; the bleeding had nearly stopped. Still, she put a clean cloth back in its place before she looked at Hutch. “How did you know it was Hathor?”

“I didn’t.” Hutch never took his eyes from the would-be murderess. “Not until you broke her spell. Then I suddenly remembered what I’d read in the mission report. About how she controlled Colonel O’Neill and all the other men. And I realized the narcotic I was feeling was her essence.”

Starsky stared at his partner, knowing how Hutch must have hated being under the influence of any kind of drug again. When Hutch’s clouded stare met his, they ‘talked’ for a few moments while Hutch’s eyes cleared and he put the fear away. 

“Captain Carter…” Starsky turned to the Air Force officer.

She smiled at him. “We’ve been through this before, Dave, remember? I’m Sam.” Her smile widened and she put her hand on his arm. “I saw the video of how you handled that episode in the gate room. I was very impressed with your ingenuity and compassion.”

Starsky saw the gleam appear in Hutch’s eyes and knew what was coming. “There’s a video?” his partner asked Sam. “Can I see this video, please?”

“How did you know we were in trouble, Sam?” Starsky changed the subject quickly, gesturing toward the Goa’uld. 

“When Hathor’s around,” she laughed, “every man is in trouble.”

At that point, Brandon escorted several security and Long Beach police officers into the enclosure. The next hour was taken up with their handcuffing the fuming redhead and leading her away, paramedics taking care of Sam’s gash, and statements being taken from everyone in the dining room. 

When the last member of law enforcement had left, along with the final diner, Starsky, Hutch and Sam sat back down around the table. 

Hutch poured them each a cup of coffee from the fresh pot Brandon had put on the hot plate. They toasted each other. 

“They won’t be able to hold her, you know,” Sam told them, sadly. “She’ll fugue out. Probably before they even get her booked.” 

“I still don’t understand how you knew to come down here,” Starsky persisted, needing answers.

“Colonel O’Neill and I had been on P3X-424 all day,” Sam began, “and the truce seems to be holding. But they’re going to need help rebuilding. The Colonel and I thought we might ask Katherine and Ernest to put Four Two Four on the tour list.” She sipped her coffee for a few moments. “Having humans to guide around their beautiful home might get their minds off their problems. And,” she added significantly, “if our people could see what had very nearly happened to a world where the inhabitants simply couldn’t get along with each other, we might benefit, too.”

She drank more coffee. “Colonel O’Neill and I came down and talked with Katherine and Ernest. They agreed wholeheartedly. Jack went back to the mountain to get the ball rolling.” 

“But how did you know we were in trouble?” Starsky was still confused.

When she didn’t seem to want to answer, Starsky looked at Hutch for help. 

After a moment, Hutch shrugged and turned to Sam. “You might as well answer him, Sam. I understand what happened, but he hasn’t read the mission reports. Besides,” he smiled at Starsky, “Once he gets the bit in his teeth…”

“Okay,” she relented. “I didn’t want to make you feel any worse than you already did, Dave. I’ve had a close encounter with Hathor before. She took control of the Cheyenne Mountain facility and its Stargate by putting all the men there under her spell. She very nearly destroyed the place and would have populated Earth with Goa’uld.”

“She could really do that, huh?” Starsky vividly recalled his feelings of being ensnared. 

“Oh, yeah. She could. You both felt it, I saw it in your eyes as I walked up. She owned you.”

The look Starsky shared with his partner that time said it all. “Yeah. I guess she did.”

“Well, when the Colonel and I got here, all people could talk about was your heroics in the gate room, Dave, and Ken’s impending arrival. Plus a green-eyed redhead who was wandering all over the place, making men forget what they were doing.” She smiled to herself. “I’m also pretty sure that last part was one of the reasons why the Colonel wanted to get back to the Mountain as soon as possible. His first encounter with Hathor was one he wouldn’t want to reprise.” 

She looked at Starsky, then at Hutch. “I knew you two would be trophies she couldn’t resist. When Daniel told me you had so much to talk about you might still be here, I came down to check.” She shrugged. “You know the rest.”

“Can she mirror travel?” Starsky asked suddenly.

“Since she must know by now that it’s how you got here, Ken,” Sam said to Hutch, “I’m sure she could if she wanted to.”

“We have to move it to a more secure location.” Hutch had clearly picked up Starsky’s thoughts. “And make sure it’s guarded at all times.”

Sam nodded agreement. “Now that Daniel has gotten you two together, we can take it back to the Mountain. Hathor failed in her attempt to destroy the place when she was there. Failed badly as a matter of fact. So I doubt that she’d want to chance going back. Thank you for thinking of it, Dave.”

“The safety and security of this place is our business now.” He grinned at Hutch. “That’s our job.”

She tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little tired. It’s been a really long day.” She pushed her chair back and stood. Starsky and Hutch did, too. She shook each of their hands and kissed each on the cheek. “I’ll tell Colonel O’Neill this gate now has the best possible security until we can arrange for its transportation.”

After she left, Starsky sat back down to finish his coffee.

Hutch took the chair next to him instead of across the table. “You said something about dessert, Starsk?”

Starsky finished his coffee. “Naw. That last part kinda ruined my appetite.”

Hutch drank the rest of his coffee and put his napkin on the table. 

Starsky allowed a grin to creep across his face. “You ready to make one last stop, partner, before we go home?” 

“‘Home’?” 

“Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here.” Starsky’s face lit up. “We bought a bungalow just before you died. I kept all your stuff…” He broadened his smile. “…including your guitar. And your plants. You’ll feel like you never left.”

Hutch returned the smile, doubled. “Let’s go!”

*******

The Pits was closed, it was very late, but the lights were still on inside. Starsky parked his pickup in front, since there were no other cars on the street. “I called Huggy when I went to the men’s room. Didn’t tell him anything, just asked him to stick around after he closed, if he could.” He looked at his watch. “Didn’t think it would be this late. Lights on means he’s probably still here though.”

Hutch wasn’t sure he was ready for this but the enthusiasm on his partner’s face was something he could not, and would not dampen. He only hoped and prayed Huggy didn’t ask him how he had died in Hutch’s reality. He wasn’t ready to tell that story yet. Taking a deep breath, he punched Starsky lightly on the arm. “Let’s hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.”

“Huggy’s tough,” Starsky said lightly. Then, no so lightly, “He got me through losing you.”

“Like mine got me through losing you,” Hutch replied, before he had to swallow the sudden constriction. “Until I lost him, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said. “I forgot that he’s dead where you come from.” He put a hand on Hutch’s arm. “Are you okay? We can do this some other time.”

“I’m fine, Starsk.” Hutch donned a small smile. “I only hope he is.”

They got out of the truck and locked it. Hutch opened the bar’s front door for Starsky and followed him inside.

Huggy was putting the last chairs up on their tables, his back to the door. “We’re closed,” he snarled. “Come back tomorrow. We open at eleven.” With the final chair on its table, he turned around and froze. The look on his face went from irritation to open-mouthed wonder, to sheer happiness.

*******

Later, in the usual back booth, Starsky and Hutch on one side, Huggy across from them, six empty beer bottles on the table attested to the amount of time it took for Starsky and Hutch to bring Huggy up to date on their adventures. 

Huggy’s expression of awe morphed at last into one of contemplation. “What’re you gonna tell people?”

Starsky knew this would be Hutch’s decision, but he gave his partner all the silent support he could. 

“The truth,” Hutch said, finally.

“You think they’ll believe you?” Huggy sounded serious. “Not come lookin’ for you to cure lameness? Or blindness? Or heal the sick?” 

Starsky grinned at their best friend. “They’re already getting pretty used to the stories about people going off-world through the Stargate, Hug. Why wouldn’t they believe Hutch could come through The Ancients’ Mirror from an alternate reality?”

Huggy thought for a moment before he smiled. “Why not, indeed? ‘Cause everybody knows that truth is…”

“… stranger than fiction,” all three finished.

 

END

‘Ya know, Hutch,” Starsky added, thoughtfully, “we should talk to Katherine and Ernest when we go down next week. They could have a whole new service to offer clients: Find Lost Loved Ones.” 

Hutch and Huggy groaned at the same time.

“I’m only sayin’…”


End file.
